It's What We Do While We're Still Waiting

I.N.I.

A sermon to be preached at Our Savior Lutheran Church, Arlington, Virginia on Christ the King Sunday, that is 22 November 2015, and being based on the Holy Gospel for the Day, St. Matthew 25:31-40

Grace, mercy, and peace be yours in Christ Jesus our Lord!

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Here it is, Christ the King Sunday again. That's what we call the last Sunday of the Church Year, the Sunday before Advent starts us off on another year. “Christ the King” … I noticed it doesn't say “Christ the President”. Which, I think, makes it a little harder for those of us with elected governments to really understand the image. We haven't had a king here since the 1700s when the British colonists, some of them anyway, chose Revolution rather than the status quo. So that's way before any of us remember. It might as well be as far in the past as the 800s when Charlemagne was emperor in Europe. We Americans don't remember or know what it really means to live under a king.

So I think it might be a little hard for us to unpack all the meaning in Jesus's words that make up today's Gospel. But we'll try anyway, because this is an important passage.

According to the beginning of chapter 24 Jesus said these words while sitting on the Mount of Olives, a small ridge across a little valley to the east of Jerusalem. It seems to have been a favorite place of Jesus. The Garden of Gethsemane is there. And Jesus would be in that Garden a handful of days after He spoke our Gospel to His disciples. This lesson comes at the end of a long day of teaching, first publicly in the Temple itself with the crowds, and then here privately on the Mount with His disciples. The teachings focus ever more closely on Christ's Second Coming, and on our judgment at the end of time.

The disciples would have had a better feel than we do for what it meant to say that the King was coming. They lived in a world of emperors and kings, with the Caesar in Rome, and King Herod, and so on. So they understood. They understood that the king himself wielded all authority. If they ever heard the phrase “balance of power” they understood it to mean that, on balance, the rulers had all the power. It was a rough world for everyone not in power, that is, for everyone other than the king and his favorites. Which means also that they probably had a quick emotional response to the idea that the coming King was going to judge them.

And here we listen in as Jesus tells them that “when the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the angels with Him, then He will sit on His glorious throne. Before Him will be gathered all the nations, and He will separate people one from another....” (25:31, 32) Yep, here it comes: the impending judgment. A division of the peoples. Some to the left; some to the right. At least what Jesus says has some sense and reason to it. And there it is: all nations are gathered, and then all the people are divided.

Now unless you're a brand new Christian, you've heard this passage before or read it in your Bible. You know how it goes, as I do. This is Jesus talking about His own second coming – His coming as a King in glory and majesty. He had come into Jerusalem as a humble king at the beginning of the week, riding on the donkey and surrounded by the children and the palm branches and hearing the Hosannas. Here He's talking about the final judgment at the end of the world. It's a scene we're all waiting for; and it's appropriate to think about it as we're about to launch into our annual season of re-enacting the waiting for His first coming as a baby in Bethlehem. We seem so much more eager to do our Advent waiting for Christmas than we are to do our daily waiting for the Second Coming.

Why is that? Maybe it's that Christmas comes every year, while the Second Coming hasn't happened even once. I think, too, perhaps it's because we're afraid. Are we afraid that maybe we are going to end up on His left hand with the goats instead of on His right hand with the sheep? Are we afraid that maybe we haven't been doing the things we should have been doing, living the way we should have been living? Afraid because of our sins? If that's the case, then what was the whole first coming about? If we're afraid to stand before Christ the King sitting on His throne, then what was His manger and cross all about? He came into this world to gain us forgiveness, so that's taken care of. The Holy Spirit came on each one of us, giving us the gift of faith that Jesus's death and resurrection counts for us. Our job now is to live in that faith. As believers who trust in God's promises, the Second Coming should not make us afraid.

But you know what it is in this passage that has caught my eye for a while? It's the verse where the people on Jesus's right side say “Wait! What? You were hungry and we gave you food? You were thirsty, and … and a stranger? No, I would have remembered that. What are You talking about?” [that's a paraphrase]

Yes, Jesus replies, that was Me. When you did your works of love and mercy to the most insignificant people around, the ones other people considered worthless, then you were doing those things to Me! Really!

What catches my eye about this particular verse is that the sheep-people are as confused about the daily presence of Jesus in their lives as the goat-people are in the rest of the passage when they are told “you didn't do these things unto Me.” You can hear the shouts from the left side “no fair! If we'd known it was You, if You'd let us know, of course we would have helped You out, we're not heartless; give us a break.” That's the goat-people.

But as the sheep-people, we will be just as mystified about how Jesus could have been the recipient of our charity. And the thing is, see, that I believe the reason the sheep are mystified, the reason they aren't sure how they could have been ministering to Jesus, is that they were just going about their business. They hadn't been keeping an eye out for Jesus as the goats maybe just might have been (although, really, do you actually think they were? If anything, the goats might have been watching for Jesus only to the extent that a lazy employee keeps an eye out for the boss's approach and only gets to working hard when the supervisor comes by.). The sheep on Jesus's right hand were visiting the sick and imprisoned, were clothing the naked and welcoming the strangers, they were feeding the hungry, just because that's what they normally did. It was their way of life. It was how they conducted themselves.

Someone's hungry? Well, of course you'll feed him or her! That was their attitude during life. So when the King tells them this from His throne they're a little confused by how they could have missed Jesus if He had been hungry or sick or a stranger. They weren't really looking for Jesus. They were just doing what they normally did.

The point here is not that the way to get into Heaven is to offer charity to the needy. It isn't. The point is that for those of us forgiven by God because of Jesus's death on the cross and His resurrection to life, we the people of God now just do these things naturally as part of who we are. It's how we act. It's how we behave. It's what we do.

And it's what we do without recognizing – or even looking for – the face of Christ on those receiving our help. The sheep in this Gospel lesson didn't know that they had been helping Jesus whenever they helped the least of these His brothers, and we certainly don't know that we are helping Jesus whenever we help the least in today's world. But it's all here in the Gospel. This explanation of what happens when the followers of Christ act warmly and charitably to those in need.

So, for unbelievers it makes no sense to look for the King. They wouldn't know Him even if they tripped over Him. But for believers, it is a natural part of our new life to look for the King in the face of our brothers and sisters.

This Christ the King Sunday happens to fall in Thanksgiving week -- or the other way around, Thanksgiving happens to fall in Christ the King week. That seems to make it an appropriate time for us to consider the life and death needs of our King's other children. In only a few days, after all, most or all of us will sit down to our typical American Thanksgiving feasts – when those in deep need won't even be able to count on a simple meal.

Matthew 25 makes it clear what our charge is. If we do not give food to the hungry, if we do not give a drink to the thirsty, if we do not welcome the stranger, if we do not clothe the naked, if we do not visit the sick and the imprisoned, then we will be among the goats sent to the eternal fire. If we have not done those things, then we haven't carried out our responsibilities as members of the Kingdom and show by our lack of works that we have no faith underneath. If we haven't done those things, we are guilty of ignoring the King.

But if we have?? Then we will inherit the Kingdom prepared for us from the foundation of the world. If we have fed the hungry, clothed the naked, welcomed the stranger and all the rest, then we have done these things for our King.

Our search for the King's face in the faces of the hungry, the naked, and the strangers is a search that pleases God. When God called us to be in mission and ministry, he called us to (among other things) help those in need as if we were helping Christ Himself. To this end we remember our church's outreach and the outreach of community and international aid organizations that help people on our behalf in places we cannot go, done only with our support and backing..

We live in a fortunate part of the world, as you know. Here in America there are comparatively few people who go completely without food for days, or who live out in the open air with barely any clothing and hardly any family and friends. Here in this country we don't have people washing up on our shorelines desperate to escape violence and bloodshed and persecution in their home country.

And merely because these people don't knock on our doors for help, that's no reason to deny them our help. As Christian people, our help should extend around the world. We can find the face of Christ our King in the faces of the hungry, the dispossessed, the refugee, the homeless and naked and stranger everywhere in the world. We can simply love those people for Christ's sake, and give them what they need.

Christ our King searched each of us out when we were lost sheep. He brought us into safe places. He nurtured us. Our response, out of love and gratitude includes our search for other people with whom to share the Gospel about Christ, and with whom to share our material blessings. Let's give everyone some thing to be thankful for.

Amen.

And the peace of God that passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, our Lord and King. Amen

S.D.G.

A Sermon

I.N.I.

a sermon to be preached at Christ Episcopal Church, Accokeek, Maryland on 15 November 2015, that is, the 25th Sunday after Pentecost and the Third Sunday of End Time (Proper 28 [33]), and based on the Epistle for the day, Hebrews 10:11-25

Grace, mercy and peace be your in Chris Jesus, our Lord.

My Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Most of us want to live fully-rounded lives in which we are surrounded by family and friends, able to work satisfying work, followed by resting comfortably as we relax and refresh ourselves with good, healthy food in safe and secure surroundings. I'd even say that most people in the world want the same sort of thing for themselves. While the definitions of "safe," "healthy," "relax," "satisfying," and "work" variy from one person to the next, it makes sense that everyone at least wants things in life to be okay, and would really like things to be better than okay.

And lots of people are willing to make great sacrifices so that they can enjoy that kind of life. Or so that their children can enjoy that "better than okay" kind of life. Maybe you or people in your family made great sacrifices so that others could go to college. Maybe you sacrificed a successful career in order to stay at home while your children were little. Maybe you can identify with refugees around the world who sacrifice everything but the clothes on their backs in order to get to a country where they'll be safe, secure, and free. People often give up a lot, sacrifice things, for a greater good, or to achieve something of value. Which brings us to today's Scriptures.

Our Old Testament ancestors, when they were doing their religion right, sacrificed a lot. It would be an instructive exercise to read slowly through the first 5 books of the Old Testament and write down how many and what kind of sacrifices are written about there. All kinds of domesticated livestock were to be offered up at various times for various reasons. There were also offerings of grain, and olive oil, and even salt. It was an ancient system that traces back at least to Genesis 4, where both Cain and Abel - the sons of Adam and Eve - offer to God some of the fruits of their agricultural labors. Much later -- and after many other sacrifices you can read about -- the Lord standardized the system in the laws given to the Israelites during the Exodus from Egypt.

It is these latter sacrifices, the system of daily sacrifices and sin offerings and all the rest that were made first in the Tabernacle (during the Exodus and earliest years in the Promised Land), and then made in the Temple in Jerusalem (during the years the people of God were not in exile and the years the Temple was not destroyed) -- it is these sacrifices that the writer to the Hebrews is referring to at the beginning of today's Epistle: "Every priest stands daily ministering and offering time after time the same sacrifices..." (Heb 10:11).

I have trouble imagining what that must have been like. The noise. The smells. The crowds. The blood. The confusion. I think I would have had difficulty obtaining a sense of worship there – maybe if I had grown up in that system it would have been comfortable, but I didn't. I would have gotten a sense of relief out of it ... after I had left. And that was really the point of the sacrificial system: to be an offer of forgiveness and relief and peace to the faithful, penitent person coming to God with an offering of the finest animal they had ... leaving it there at the altar to be killed and then burnt up, wholly consumed by the fire til nothing was left.

And the priests, we are told here in Hebrews, stood there day after day repeating the same sacrifices over and over again, sacrifices which -- we are also told in the rest of verse 11 -- "can never take away sins." That thought must have struck at least some of the priests and people, as if they said “Here we are again; making the same offering, the same sacrifice; maybe this time it will be enough, maybe this time the Lord will be satisfied, maybe this time my heart will come away at peace.” But, no, that wasn't to happen. The next day the priests were back on duty; the animals were lined up again; the knives were sharpened; the fires stoked; the prayers said and rituals performed; and the sacrifices started up again. If it wasn't that the Law commanded that they were to do these things, certainly many would have come to the conclusion that these sacrifices "can never take away sins."

And then into this world came Jesus.

Our Gospel reading from Mark 13 shows Him and some of the disciples at this same Temple. In Mark 12 He had been with them inside the Temple teaching, discussing, disputing. Then right before our lesson "He sat down opposite the treasury, and began observing how the people were putting money into the treasury" the rich making an offering of large sums and the poor widow putting in her two small copper coins. After pointing that out to His disciples, they left the Temple complex.

As they walked out, one of the disciples -- we don't know which one, but he was showing his country roots -- marveled out loud like a tourist "Look Teacher! What large stones and what large buildings!" (Mark 13:1) If there had been an Internet back then, he would have had pictures on Facebook or Instagram or something as soon as he could get a connection. Jesus's response was both loving and understanding and unsettling all at once: "You see these big buildings? Not one stone will be left upon another...." (Mark 13:2)

The brighter disciples were set to thinking what that meant. No stones piled up meant no buildings. No buildings meant no Temple. No Temple meant no place to offer sacrifices. No sacrifices meant . . . well, what did it mean? It would have meant that the sacrificial system was coming to an stop, that either they were a dead end, or maybe that they'd finally be enough.

But God had a surprise. If the disciples had been really listening to Jesus, especially in the previous weeks and months, then they would perhaps have understood what the surprise was. Yes, the Temple was going to be destroyed and the endless sacrifices brought to an end (that was going to happen about 40 years later). But, no, it wasn't because those animal sacrifices burnt on the altar had finally been enough. Before the Temple destruction came to pass, the writer to the Hebrews explained what really happened. He wrote "but He [Jesus], having offered one sacrifice for sins for all time, sat down at the right hand of God ... For by one offering He has perfected for all time those who are sanctified." (Heb 10:12, 14). For the time being, the priests still stood day after day at the altar because their work was never-ending; while Jesus was sitting down at the right hand of God, His work done.

The endless sacrifices of animals were coming to an end because the one sacrifice of Jesus finally took away all sins for all time.

Which means that believers here in Accokeek and around the world can rejoice. God doesn't want us sacrificing animals day after day. God's justice isn't still waiting to be satisfied for the sins that you and I commit day after day. (Although I wouldn't be surprised if He got annoyed at the way we so often try to fall back on a sacrificial system as if it would do us some good.)

Maybe it's not the bloody animal sacrifices again. And it probably isn't the sacrifices that parents make so their children can go to college, or the sacrifices refugees make to escape persecution and death in their homelands. But I'm pretty sure all of us - at least from time to time - start to feel as if something else we do or say or give up will maybe somehow, even just a little, show the Lord how good we are, or how worthy we are, or how much we ought to get some blessing from Him. Our Scriptures for today tell us that that system of trying to please God just doesn't cut it. The priests stand there day after day, because that job was literally an endless one. Jesus was sitting down because His one sacrifice of Himself was over and done, good for all time and all people.

Now if you still want to DO something -- and out of your thankfulness and gratefulness to God for His forgiveness that now yours in the wake of Jesus's crucifixion and resurrection, you DO want to do something -- keep reading the lesson in Hebrews for guidance.

"Therefore" he writes in verse 19, as a result of what I just told you and growing out of the new life you have in Jesus, "Therefore ... since we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is, His flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God..." (Heb 10:19-21), because of all this, let's do some things in response. The normal Christian life, in other words, isn't one where we try to be good enough for God, worried about how and whether we measure up, scared of upsetting an angry old God in Heaven. That was all taken care of by the sacrificial death of the perfect Son of God on the cross. The normal Christian life is the life of forgiven children who have confidence to enter the holy place. And in that confidence, let us ... well, there are a few things listed here in Hebrews 10 that I want us to go through slowly enough to really hear them.

First, "let us draw near [to God] with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water." (10:22) Cleansed inside and out, fully believing in what God has done for us, our old evil consciences sanitized and made whole again, assured by faith that God really means what He said about forgiving us, let us draw near. He's still God. He's still king of the universe. He's still our perfect and eternal father. But we don't have any reason to draw back from Him. So let's you and me draw near. Let's come to Him. Let's come meet Him in the Sacrament. Let's hear what He has to say in His Word. Let's find God in all things, big and small. The earth is full of the glory of God, and finding Him in it is a treasure hunt, a joyful joy-bringing way to spend our time wherever we are.

Second, "let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering for He who promised is faithful." (10:23) We regularly make confession of our faith using the words of the Creeds. And in those creeds we express our belief in things like the forgiveness of sins and the resurrection of the body, things that we hope for, that we have a deep and sure expectation and desire that they will happen. Why in the world can we be so certain that something as outrageous as the resurrection of our bodies will actually happen? Because He -- that is, Jesus -- has promised us it'll happen. He then rose from the dead Himself, becoming what we call the firstfruits of the resurrection. That makes it certain. That makes it sure. That makes it absolutely bound to happen. So let's you and me hold tight to the confession of our hope. Let's talk about it amongst ourselves. Let's even share that hope with others.

Third, "let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds." (10:24) Here, maybe for some, things get a little trickier because this involves other people. I mean, I can draw near to God in a little prayer closet, and I can hold fast the confession of the hope in me without moving a muscle. But to start stimulating others to love and good deeds necessarily involves other people. And what if other people start stimulating me to love and good deeds! Well, this IS a communion of saints we're in si it's bound to happen. The real problem, however, is that we might set out stimulating people to do the stuff that we don't want to do ourselves off onto someone else by calling them 'good deeds'. Or we might try to stir up guilt in order to get someone to do these things rather than stirring up love. If our relationships are not the fruit of freedom, then they probably aren't the fruit of love. Yet we can point out to others opportunities to do good deeds when we see something that needs doing and that matches their talents. We can express our love of others by telling them how much we appreciate their gifts and talents. So let's do all we can to stimulate others to love and good deeds.

Fourth, let us "not forsake our own assembling together" (10:25a) This, well, this this morning it's kind of 'preaching to the choir,' isn't it? Because you're all here. And most of us are here most every week unless we're sick or out of town. We do assemble together. So perhaps we can take this as an admonition to find ways to get other people to assemble with us in order to "pray, praise, and give thanks." We can also view this as one of the ways in which we can carry out the third imperative to stimulate one another to love and good deeds. Being together, especially for services of worship, to receive the Eucharist, to hear and learn God's Word ... these are deep ways in which we stimulate others to good works, to works done in and from love. So let's you and me not forsake assembling together.

Fifth, let us "encourage one another" (10:25b) This life of drawing near to God, of holding tightly to our confession of hope, of stimulating one another to love and good deeds, this new life in Christ will and does attract opposition. Speaking plainly, Satan doesn't want us to do any of this. So he throws up opposition and roadblocks, and tries everything he can to pull us off the path we are on. Not a one of us is immune. Which means that every one of us is in need of encouragement from time to time. So let's you and me prime ourselves to be in the habit of encouragement, especially of others in the family of faith.

These five imperatives can only make sense to us growing out of the once-for-all sacrifice of Jesus. If ever we are or were stuck in the old way, the pre-Jesus way, of doing things and if we are or were focused mostly on trying to sacrifice our way into God's good graces, well, we'd find that the old never-ending loop just wouldn't let us get to the point of living the Gospel life of these imperatives.

But remember this: Jesus "offered one sacrifice for sins for all time ... [and] by [that] one offering He has perfected for all time those who are sanctified" (10:11,13). WE are sanctified by the blood of the Lamb. WE are washed clean by the pure water of Baptism. Because of God's gracious and loving acts, WE are able to draw near. WE can hold fast the confession of our hope for the resurrection. WE can stimulate each other to love and good deeds.

Our God is so good to us.

Amen

May the peace of God which passes all human understanding keeps your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen

S.D.G.

I Need to Start Writing Boldly

"If a writer is so cautious that he never writes anything that cannot be criticized, he will never write anything that can be read. If you want to help other people you have got to make up your mind to write things that some men will condemn." Thomas Merton, Seeds of Contemplation. NY: Dell, 1949, p. 65

The Miracle Isn't the Walking on the Water Part

I.N.I.

a sermon to be preached on the 9th Sunday after Pentecost, 10 August 2014 at Our Savior Lutheran Church, Arlington, VA, and based on the Holy Gospel for the day: St. Matthew 14:22-33

Grace, mercy, and peace be yours in Christ Jesus our Lord,

Dear Friends in Christ,

What is this story in the middle of Matthew's Gospel all about? It might depend on just where you focus. 

For example, imagine yourself as one of the disciples. You've just participated in the miraculous feeding of the 5,000 -- passed out that never-ending bread and fish with your own hands -- and eaten of it yourself. You and your buddies were still marveling over just how that happened and then how each of you had picked up a basket full of leftovers. You were still in the glow of all that when Jesus, your Master, hurried you all off in the boat, shoved you all out on the Sea of Galilee himself, and as evening deepened turned his back on you in order to talk more with the crowds. So you start rowing. And rowing and rowing. You probably take turns at the oars because you are working basically all night, trying to make progress against a strong headwind, muscles aching, sweat dripping. So if you're one of the 11 (we will leave Peter, the 12th, out for a minute) this story might one about being on a spiritual high and being brought down to a physical low, wrapped up with this stunning concluding act of walking on the water.

 The crowds, the common people and their leaders, were bookends to this narrative. The 5,000 were fed and nourished by Jesus in last week's Gospel, and as we pick up the storyline this morning they're being dismissed by Jesus. Not much going on there except that by now evening had pretty fully come and they were all still out in the deserted place, away from the surrounding villages. And who knows but maybe Jesus miraculously provided oil lamps for each family group, or sent along angels (the crowds would have thought they were some of the disciples) to guide them safely back to town for the night, back home to their own beds. Then just past the end of the story crowds on the other side of the lake recognized Jesus and brought their sick and needy from all over the region for healing that they knew, that they believed, Jesus could (and did) provide. Maybe some of the people in the morning heard the disciples tell in wide-eyed amazement "You won't believe what just happened out on the lake last night!". But mostly the crowds thought of this as a story of comfort and contentment and fulfillment and peace; a story of full bellies and full hearts; a story of restored vigor and restored health.

And Peter, what about Peter? Ah, he was there during the feeding miracle, of course, though he isn't specifically named. He was there when they were sent away by Jesus. As one of the fishermen among the troupe he would have been comfortable and 'at home' on the boat among the oars and ropes, in the smell of the open water, feeling the rise and fall of the boat on the waves. Even the contrary wind all night would have been familiar to Peter, as sudden storms are common on the Sea of Galilee. Peter was certainly more at home on the water than, say, Matthew the tax collector, or the farmers and scholars among the Twelve. He knew what to expect out in the middle of the large lake and how to deal with it. And then he finds all that comfort and familiarity shaken through and through as surely as if they had struck an iceberg. Some one of them glanced off to the side, or maybe looked up over the stern when the boat was at the top of one of the waves. Somebody saw something out there on the water and called out about it. They all looked, certain it was some kind of ghost, some kind of phantom.

I mean, whatever it was, it actually looked like Jesus out there walking on the surface of the water. I imagine the first couple of them said "Man, I must be working too hard here; I'm seeing things!" But then they all agreed that clearly this was a ghost, an apparition of some kind. Except that the figure spoke to them: "It's me, don't be afraid." Peter, who had apparently not gotten the memo that said 'don't tempt the Lord, your God', tosses out a challenge, which is immediately accepted, and next thing you know he's clambering down the side of the boat to the water, stepping out, and walking. This likely seems to us to be Peter's high point in the story, the thing he'd remember most. Though it seems to me that over time he would have remembered more what happened next: when he started to sink, and called out to the Lord, Jesus immediately shot out his hand and grabbed Peter to save him. To Peter, then, I think this story could have been about being saved by Jesus, and not about walking on water.

What do you suppose the story was about for Jesus? It was part of a very long period of work for him. Hearing about John the Baptist's execution, trying to get away to pray about it, but being followed by the crowds that sought healing miracles, crowds that then found themselves hungry and not near a village, crowds that had to be fed miraculously, then there were the disciples to send on their way, and the crowd to dismiss, and THEN Jesus was finally able to get up the mountain in the dark by himself to pray uninterruptedly. "But by this time the boat [of disciples], battered by the waves, was far from the land" and in order to give his friends a hand, Jesus had to walk out there, into the wind, up and down waves, through the dark, until - somewhere between 3 and 6 in the morning - he caught up with them.

So I'm wondering whether maybe for Jesus this story wasn't so much about walking on water as it was about prayer. Hearing about John' death and wanting to pray about it; prayer interrupted by the crowd praying to him for healing; disciples praying about feeding the people; praying over the bread and fish; wrapping up with the crowd that was surely expressing either final needs or thanks or both; and then finally getting away by himself to pray; except that he was interrupted by the disciples' fearful prayers out on the water, and then Peter's specific prayers. Yes, it seems to me that from Jesus's point of view, this story might be one about prayer.

Well, that's the crowds, and the disciples, and Peter, and Jesus. What about you? What is this story about for you? If you haven't come to a conclusion on that yet, perhaps you can follow me along a little longer to this point: the story is about how we should and how we can have faithful trust or confidence that we're going where Jesus wants us to go, doing what he wants us to do.

If we focus in on Jesus and Peter in this passage we can see this most clearly. At the beginning, Peter and the other disciples did not see Jesus at all. It was night. They were out to sea. They were headed away from Jesus. Sounds a lot like us on our bad days, doesn't it? Then when they finally did see Jesus, they didn't really see him. They thought he was a ghost, not the real thing, something come to frighten them. They saw him but did not see him as their loving, comforting, powerful friend who made things come out right. I would suggest, again, that we're like that a lot. We might often be going along on our merry way and, glancing to the side, see Jesus, but think of him as a threat. Maybe we know that we're headed the wrong way and that Jesus is going to call us up short and point us in a different direction. We usually don't like it when our sinfulness is pointed out to us. So sometimes we're headed into the dark, and away from Jesus. Sometimes we see him but don't really see him, and try to ignore his calls to us.

And sometimes we are even in his presence and still manage to fall away. Here, think of Peter on the water. He had asked for a sign, Jesus said "Come" and Peter had stepped out toward Jesus and everything was fine. Except that Peter then, as the text says, "saw the wind". Strange phrase, that: "Saw the wind." We don't actually see the wind itself, do we? We see the effects of the wind. We see clouds moving along the sky; leaves dancing ahead of it; snow being driven horizontally; sails on a boat puffed out. But the wind itself? We don't see that. Peter, however, saw the wind. He looked away from Jesus, he focused instead on something we cannot really see, something that has power in it, but is itself insubstantial. The wind has no weight, no heft, no mass. It isn't something you can put in a box for later. But it distracted St. Peter, the same way that insubstantial things distract us from Jesus. He took his eyes off of Jesus as do we.

Then we come to what I think is the most curious verse in this passage "he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out". I've been trying to picture how one "begins to sink." As Peter lost focus on Jesus did the water slowly creep past his ankles, rising bit by bit toward his knees? If it were me, I'm sure I'd have gone straight to the bottom. It would have read "he was afraid and sank like a stone before he could cry out." But Peter was only "beginning to sink" and had a chance to cry out.

Which brings us to the central point of all this: that the story is about how we should and how we can have faithful trust or confidence that we're going where Jesus wants us to go, doing what he wants us to do. In today's Epistle St Paul writes that "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved". It's a very New Testament thought, right? Except that Paul is quoting from the prophet Joel in the Old Testament at this point. Calling on the name of the Lord in times of trouble and when we sin is something encouraged throughout the Bible, and ever since. Peter began to sink and called out "Lord, save me." You're faced with some dire temptation and call out "Lord, save me!" We're faced with some danger -- wild Beltway traffic, a house fire, an eviction notice, loss of a job -- and call out "Lord, save me!" Prayer, in other words, prayer to the Lord is one of the ways to express our faithful trust and confidence that he will help.

The other way we can consider this morning is the action Peter took as he began to sink. He could have flailed around. He could have grabbed for the boat behind him. He could have tried to dive in the direction of his friends and their helping hands. But Peter did none of that. What happened in that instant was that "Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of" Peter. Peter didn't grab or lunge or dive, he was taken hold of by Jesus.

When we are looking for direction in our confusing, storm-tossed world, it seems to me that we could take guidance from this passage. Act like Peter. Find out whether Jesus is really there in the direction you propose to go. Maybe your options aren't as stark and scary as a choice between staying in the wind-driven boat, or going over the side onto the waves; but we're often as uncertain as Peter was. So, pray "Lord, is it you?" Is it you standing there where I propose to go? If it's truly you there, Lord, then invite me out of the boat, invite me into this new project, this different direction. Then listen for the Lord's response, because if he is in the new venture, he will invite you to step out. Now, very key to this whole thing, keep your eyes fixed on Jesus. Don't be distracted by the wind. Don't worry about the waves. Focus on Jesus, think about how he is in the new thing and invited you into it, how he is always concerned about your safety and well-being.

Engage in prayer. Let Jesus reach out and take hold of you. You could, in other words, just say "be a Christian," because Christians pray and they let Jesus reach out to them through his Word and through the Sacraments. He takes hold of us through them, and holds us safe. Our Savior did an immense thing by taking our sin to the cross when he died in our places. So he can do a little thing like individually taking hold of each of us to make sure we get safely back to shore.

Pray. Let him take hold of you. Then be at peace.

Amen

And may the peace of God that passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, our Lord.

S.D.G.

Wonderful post yesterday by Arianna Huffington in her HuffPost blog titled "Hemingway, Thoreau, Jefferson and the Virtues of a Good Long Walk" in which she writes about just that: how walkign is good for creative thinking, for general all-purpose thinking, for general psychological and physiological benefits.

"So it truly seems like there is no end to the problems that can be solved by walking. It makes us healthier, it makes us fitter, it enhances every kind of cognitive performance, from creativity to planning and scheduling. Best of all, it reconnects us to ourselves. And there is nothing paradoxical about that."

So again I say, go walking!

About Fire from Heaven

I.N.I.

a sermon to be preached at Our Savior Lutheran Church, Arlington, VA on the 6th Sunday after Pentecost, 30 June 2013, and based on the Gospel for the day St. Luke 9:51-62, with illustration and explanation from the Epistle for the day, Galatians 5:1, 13-25

Grace, mercy, and peace be yours in Christ Jesus, our Lord!

Dear Friends in Christ,

This morning there are, I'm quite sure, a lot of sermons being preached in this country about this past week's Supreme Court decisions, whether the rolling back of part of the Voting Rights Act, or the declaration that the Defense of Marriage Act is unconstitutional. This isn't one of those sermons. This sermon, like all of my sermons -- like all of our sermons -- is about Jesus.

You've gotta love these disciples! James and John, especially. The two sons of Zebedee the fisherman. The two whom Jesus nicknamed the "Sons of Thunder." Our Gospel for today shows one of the reasons why they deserved and earned this nickname: they seemed to have lightning quick fuses when they proposed immediate action to 'remedy' (as they saw it) situations that faced them.

But when you think about it, thunder doesn't really seem to do anything, does it? Except maybe startle us. It's the lightning that does something. And the wind. And the rain. The thunder, however, is just noise. It's loud. It's threatening. But while it accompanies the violent storms of summer, thunder itself doesn't seem to do anything.

And these two disciples were called "Sons of Thunder." Little echoes of thunder. Look at today's Gospel for an example of how they operated.

Jesus and company were on their way to Jerusalem and they had the option of stopping over in a Samaritan village. The disciples and their Master were not Samaritans themselves. So the villagers did not receive Jesus because they could tell he was headed for Jerusalem. And then James and John step forward with a proposal to fix things, and fix them good. They said "Lord, do You want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?" Because, you know, that would really help convince these Samaritans of the goodness of the Gospel message Jesus had been preaching all this time.

You can sort of wonder two things when you read this passage. One is to ask yourself "How in the world did Jesus put up with these characters?" And another is to think about how these disciples would so easily fit into present-day American society. Isn't their snap reaction, their thunderous proposal, just the sort of thing that our country is overfull with? In this DC region where national politics is our local news, we know this all too well, don't we? One politician makes a statement or proposal or suggestion. And we all know that the immediate reaction from someone on the other side of the aisle will be to command fire to come down from heaven to consume that politician. Swiftly, decisively, before there can even be time to digest and understand the first politician's suggestion, the impulse is to strike back and reject the proposal out of hand.

Talk radio commentators seem to do the same, as do the people who phone in to their shows. People writing on the internet, too. Tweeters and Facebookers. Everyone in our culture seems infected with this desire to call down fire from heaven to consume other people whom we picture as members of some group we aren't in.

It happens in politics. It happens in sports with trash-talking athletes at all kinds of levels. It happens in business. It even happens in the Church. Yes, there are factions and party spirit in the Church. If you look in your history books you can find a lot of calls for fire from heaven to consume the other side in religious controversies. Whenever someone seems to step outside the strict boundaries of whatever orthodoxy is at center stage, the other party calls down condemnations. Sometimes it was mass excommunication of whole countries or empires. Sometimes it was executions of individual believers from the other side. Sometimes it has meant getting the political leaders to call up armies to bring their lightning and thunder to bear against the opposition.

These days we seem a little more refined in the Church. When someone heads in a little different direction, there are accusations and threats and condemnations that appear first in tweets and blogs on the internet, then in publications, then in resolutions and declarations, open letters, the secular media, and wherever else someone can get their fire to catch and burn. Yes, even in the Church.

And in all these cases -- in politics and sports and business and the Church, in high school and on the Internet, through private conversations or public declarations -- in all these cases, the usual immediate reaction is to strike back, calling down fire from heaven on the first party. And back and forth and back again.

Jesus proposes another way.

To James and John, wanting to call down fire on the Samaritan village, Jesus gave a rebuke. He reminded them of their mission. And He took them on to another village. But what about the first village? What about the general Samaritan wandering away from Jewish orthodoxy? What about their rejection of Jesus? In our world where conservatives attack liberals, where liberals attack conservatives, where both attack the middle; in our world where different parties of Muslims launch wars on other parties; in our world where many of us can remember Christian on Christian violence in places like Northern Ireland, and where we can easily find (or be either victim or perpetrator of) violent language where Christians attacks each other over all sorts of issues; in this world of hurt and misunderstanding, in this world of sinful action and reaction ... Jesus proposes another way.

Here in our Gospel Jesus distills it to two words: "Follow Me." In quick succession along the road to village number 2, Jesus directs his followers how to follow: 1) be aware of the cost (while the animals have homes, know that such security is not promised to disciples); 2) focus on the living by proclaiming the Kingdom of God to them; and 3) if you're going to follow Jesus, then do it and do it wholeheartedly (with an allusion to today's Old Testament lesson wherein Elisha received the call to follow Elijah and immediately gave up his old life by slaughtering his oxen, cooking them on a fire made of the pieces of his wooden plow, and took to the road following the prophet Elijah).

And then St Paul, in the lesson from Galatians, reminds us of another central theme in the Bible by recalling for us that both in the Old Testament and in the teaching of Jesus the whole Law is summarized in the statement that we should love our neighbor as ourselves. Love is the fulfilling of the Law. What is NOT the fulfilling of God's plan for us are those "deeds of the flesh" Paul mentions. A large group of those deeds are the failings that seem to describe our culture of knee-jerk wanting to call down fire from heaven to consume our opponents. Listen to these items strung together in the heart of Paul's list: "strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions." (Gal. 5:20-21). Isn't this a description of the culture we live in?

Even if you don't agree there, you have to agree that much of American society, much of our economic system, and much of our culture does not display the fruit of the Spirit that Paul lists next: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (Gal. 5:22-23) Those traits are so out of the ordinary for us that if you wrote a story about, say, politicians exercising only these fruits, your story would be placed in the fantasy section of the fiction shelves. Your editor would tell you "People don't do that. People don't live that way. It isn't believable. It's not natural."

Exactly. What is natural are those works of the flesh. What isn't natural to anyone born into our sinful world are those fruits of the Spirit. But the fruits of the Spirit are everyone's ideal, or should be. People just try all sorts of odd ways to get there. Some try to get to love, joy, peace and the rest by forcing other people to come around to their own way of thinking. Some try to find those things by spending impossible amounts of money. Some, I guess, have decided that since they don't feel these fruits in their own lives, that nobody else should either.

So how do we get from our culture where the impulse seems to be calling down fire from Heaven, to a culture where the fruit of the Spirit seems normal?

Jesus counsels love. He tells us through St. Paul to "walk by the Spirit" (Gal. 3:16, 25). Which is hard to do. On our own, anyway. No, actually, it's not "hard" on our own; it's impossible on our own. We would die before we actually walked in the Spirit if it were only up to us. We're pretty well enslaved by our old nature.

But, thank God, Christ has set us free. We've been called to freedom. Our old sinful flesh with its passions and desires has been crucified because we belong to Christ (Gal. 5:2), Saint Paul tells us. So, yes, we have died. And now we do walk by the Spirit. Just not by our own reason or strength.

Living and walking in Christ is something that comes to us from the outside. Being called to discipleship isn't ever our own idea. Jesus calls us with his simple "follow me". His call comes to us through his Word and the gifts of the Sacraments. Then the desire and power to walk in the Spirit by loving our neighbor as ourselves comes from the same Word and Sacraments.

Here we are on Sunday morning wrapping ourselves in these gifts, these means of grace. But we don't need to wait for Sundays to be in those gifts. God's word comes to us in the Scriptures which we are fortunate enough to have available to us in our own languages. We are fortunate enough to be able to own printed copies of the Bible, as many as we want. We are blessed to be able to read God's Word whenever we want to, or to listen to others reading it. We can recall passages, verses, or phrases that have struck our hearts. We can see artwork inspired by Scripture, hear or sing songs inspired by Scripture, maybe create our own artwork inspired by God's Word. We can study the Word with others or by ourselves. We can read, mark, learn, and take it to heart.

And while our Sacramental lives usually spring forth out of congregational life, the effects of the Sacraments carry us though the week, too. Wherever we go, we are baptized. Whether we are walking under the trees God created or down the city streets laid out by people, we are baptized. When we are are sick or healthy, when we are traveling or at home, whether we are working or unemployed, we are still baptized. In all our states and condition, whatever our momentary emotion or passing thought, we are baptized. God's grace never leaves us. His Spirit, who washed us clean at our Baptism is in us every moment. So we never have to try to bear the fruit of the Spirit on our own. You and I are never called to fight off by ourselves the urge to call down fire from Heaven on people who offend or attack us. The Holy Spirit empowers us. We are always filled with the Spirit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Sometimes, however, we seem to forget that the Spirit is in us. When we feel weaker, or when we think for some reason that we need to put that yoke of slavery back on our shoulders, we've got still other tools always available to us. The Eucharist feeds us Christ Himself. Our prayer life enriches our thinking with the thoughts of God. Taking those helps into us we live as God would want us to live, serving Him. No longer do we want to call down fire from Heaven to consume others. Rather we seek ways to share God's love and our love with them. Jesus died and rose to life to make this all possible.

We look forward to the fulfilling of all God's promises to us in Heaven, but we are given the chance to have a foretaste -- an appetizer, if you will -- of the heavenly banquet already here on earth when we live by the Spirit, loving our neighbors as ourselves. The quiet, peaceful, loving environment that creates around us is where we find God in our world, it is where others are led to their own lives in the Spirit. Elijah found this out in today's Old Testament lesson. He was certain he was the only believer left on the planet. Then the Lord called Elijah to seek Him out. The Lord wasn't in the great strong wind. The Lord wasn't in the earthquake. The Lord wasn't in the fire that followed. The Lord was in the quiet.

I pray today that all of us here rejoice in the freedom of the Spirit that is already ours by Word and Sacrament as we learn to stop calling down fire from Heaven, but instead practice those quiet fruits of the Spirit which show that we belong to Christ.

Amen.

May the peace of God that passes all human understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

S.D.G.

Unlikely Workers

I.N.I.

a sermon to be preached at Our Savior Lutheran Church, Arlington, VA on the 5th Sunday after Pentecost, 23 June 2013, and based on the Gospel for the day, St. Luke 8:26-39, with connections to the Epistle for the day, Galatians 3:23-4:7

Grace, mercy and peace be yours in Christ Jesus our Lord,

Dear friends in Christ,

Jesus often seems to pull his workers from really unlikely places and circumstances. He selects a wandering Aramean to be the progenitor of his chosen people. He pulls a tax collector working on behalf of the occupying Romans to be in his inner circle of Jewish disciples. He takes a rabidly right wing Jewish man to be his primary apostle to the first century Gentile world. Throughout history God calls the least and weakest among humanity to be among the people who are both to lead the faithful, and to gather in more from the ends of the earth. In today's Gospel Jesus reaches into the ranks of the most unfortunate to create a missionary preacher.

Our goal this morning is to see how each of us is being called to be God's instrument in the world. No matter what our background, no matter where we come from, or how we have lived our lives thus far, we do not sit beyond the reach of God. God said through Isaiah in today's Old Testament lesson, "I spread out my hands all day to a rebellious people, who walk in a way that is not good, following their own devices; a people who provoke me to my face continually...." (Is. 65:2) In other words, he is constantly reaching out to people who do not seek him, who do not ask for him (65:1). He has done that from the beginning, and continues to do that now.

You and I are among those whom God has reached out to. We are among those whom God has called to be his servants. We are the ones whom he works through today. But like so many of those who came before us, we have often preferred to remain locked in the past, tied to the unhelpful things that date from before Jesus on our personal timelines.

Look with me at the man in today's Gospel. Here's someone who was in a bad spot. He had somehow or other opened himself up to demonic possession. And not just one demon, but a whole host of them -- thousands, perhaps. He was a danger to himself and to others. He was so violent and uncontrolled that his family and neighbors would chain him up so that he wouldn't hurt them or himself. But the demons gave him more than human strength and he would regularly break the chains holding him, and then they would drive him out of the town, away from the living, out into the cemetery where he would live in the tombs. It was a sad, lonely life. An unproductive life. A violent life. An uncontrolled life. A dangerous life. If it continued, it would be a completely wasted life.

Then Jesus appeared. He and his disciples had sailed through a raging storm on the Sea of Galilee (one in which the Lord spoke to the wind and waves to calm things down) and they had landed on the opposite shore. It wasn't far away in miles, but may have been a place the disciples had never been before. It was a Greek region made up of 10 towns that were definitely not a majority Jewish area. They were going to be strangers in a strange land.

That oddness was made clear by the welcome they got. It wasn't from the Welcome Wagon, or the Convention and Visitors' Bureau; it wasn't from Customs and Immigration Enforcement. The welcome they got was from a raving naked man. This is our demon-possessed man out roaming the deserted regions away from town. And he was in full demon mode, too, that morning.

As they landed, Jesus was already commanding the demons to come out of the poor man, but they were resisting. In typical demon fashion they were trying to distract Jesus and confuse his purposes by spinning lies. "What have you to do with me?" they asked. In other words, 'leave me alone, Jesus; this is no concern of yours, nothing interesting happening here; go back where you came from, Jesus.' All that spoken with what the demons meant as a flattering tag line, calling him "Jesus, Son of the Most High God." (Because although they do not have saving faith in Jesus, they do recognize and have to speak the truth about our Lord.)

When Jesus allows the demons to enter the herd of pigs on the hillside, the ruckus moves with them. That really becomes the news of the day as the swineherds run off to spread the story. Our focus should remain back on Jesus. We don't have the minute-by-minute narrative of what happened next, but can tell from the result that the man suddenly came back to his own God-created senses. The disciples went into their luggage to find him some clothes (or did Jesus miraculously create some for him?). Then our Lord began to teach him what he needed to know.

We sure would like to know what Jesus said to him, but that was Jesus's story for that man; and what we really need to listen for is his story for each of us. Still, I will speculate that Jesus told the man about the havoc he had created in his demon-possessed state, and the broken relationships he would need to mend. And I will surmise that Jesus especially shared his love and forgiveness with the man, and that Jesus gave the man his mission in life, explaining that it was now his turn to tell others about the miraculous life-changing relationship with God that all of them could experience, too (even though, as Isaiah had said, "they did not ask for me ... [they] did not seek me.")

So, fine Pastor, how's this relate to me? Here's how: none of us here are as obviously demon-possessed as this man by the lake was centuries ago, but all of us here have at least remnants of the chains from our past holding us back from being God's instruments in today's world.

Let's work through this by looking at our lives through the lens of Paul's Epistle to the Galatians. Our Epistle lesson this morning carries a very fully-packed series of images that grow out of the idea that in Paul's time an immature boy (which we will expand in our application to include girls) would have been under the strict rule of a guardian "until the date set by his father" (Gal. 4:2). Until that date they would really have no more rights and privileges than a slave. So Paul says that's how we were, too, when we lived under the Law. We were chained, then, basically kept prisoner, not allowed our freedom, always at the direction of another.

Living under the rule of the Law, in other words, is like being that demon-possessed man who needed to be chained up for everyone's safety, who broke away and preferred living among the dead in the tombs. "Before faith came, we were held captive under the law, imprisoned until the coming faith would be revealed" (Gal. 3:23). "But now that faith has come, we are no longer" chained in captivity to the Law with its impossible demands "for in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God through faith." (Gal. 3:25). Now that our faith is that the death and resurrection of Jesus make us right with God, we are free from the impossible demands of the Law, free to be who God wants us to be, free to live how he wants us to live.

When the demon-possessed man was changed by contact with Jesus, he put on clothes and sat at Jesus's feet. Or, as Paul says in Galatians, "as many of you were baptized into Christ have put on Christ." Putting on clothes, putting on Christ, we're ready to take up our tasks in the world.

The man by the lake is a kind of flesh-and-blood parable for us, who illustrates both Paul's teaching in Galatians and our own lives. His encounter with Jesus prepared him to go back to his house, his home, the town he was from, and tell others all the things that had come to pass, which the Lord had made known unto him. In the same way, we are informed and empowered by continuing conversations with Jesus to move out into the world and do what he needs us to do.

That continuing conversation with Jesus is important, too. I would guess that the man who had been possessed by demons probably thought his conversation was cut short. He was sitting at Jesus's feet, we're told, which was the posture of discipleship. At that time one literally sat at the feet of one's teacher. We don't know how long his instruction went on. It was a little while anyway, in that the swineherds first had to run off shouting their story in town and country; then the townsfolk had to hear the news, probably from several witnesses, process it mentally as something interesting enough to look into, and then they had to gather themselves up and go out to see what had happened. That wouldn't have been an instantaneous series of events. But there's no evidence that it dragged on either.

That makes the healed man's period of discipleship pretty short before the world (in the form of "all the people of the surrounding country") broke in on the scene, asking Jesus to depart. We could wonder at these people who were near witnesses of the miraculous healing of a man whom they all knew to be possessed of demons. Why wouldn't they want such a powerful healer to live among them and work more miracles? Well, they were afraid, we're told.

The people in that surrounding country needed a messenger to tell them they need not be afraid. They needed someone to bring them good tidings of great joy and announce to them that a Savior had been born for them in Bethlehem and was now walking the earth preaching good news to the poor. They were afraid because they realized their sinfulness in the presence of the Holy One of God. They did not know yet that Jesus himself was their path to life. They needed a messenger to bring them that news. And who better than one of their own? Who better than the man who was formerly filled with a legion of demons? That is why Jesus left the man behind with the mission to return home rather than letting him follow along as they went back to the other side of the Sea of Galilee.

The man had absorbed enough in his short time with Jesus to be able to take his experience out to his family, friends, neighbors, and eventually to "the whole city" telling them "how much Jesus had done for him" (Luke 8:39). In the same way, really, you and I have absorbed enough from our conversations with Jesus to be able to tell other people how much he has done for us. He has set us on the path. We have direction and purpose in our lives. We have parts to play.

See again how this un-named man's experience is a picture of our own. In various ways and to various depths each of us was at one time chained and kept captive under the Law. All our hearts knew then was the threat of punishment for being broken and sinful people. We lived among the dead without a shred of self-respect to clothe ourselves in. Then Jesus came to us. We were justified by faith. We were baptized and put on Christ. No longer enslaved under the Law, we were adopted as God's true children and entered into the close family relationship he offers us, where we are learning our real places in the world. And at some point we return as free people able to tell the whole city how much Jesus has done for us, each of us in our own particular way, each of us in our own God-powered actions and Spirit-filled words.

When Jesus and the disciples got back they were surrounded by crowds. After Jesus healed some people he called his 12 disciples together and sent them out "to proclaim the Kingdom of God and to heal the sick" (Luke 9:2). So you see that this action of being discipled and then going out has much precedent: the man who had been possessed by demons, the 12 disciples, all who heard the Great Commission, me, you, all of us.

In our individual conversation with Jesus we learn how and where to go, what to do. We pray with the hymnwriter: "Drive out the doubt that cripples faith; expel our pride and greed that we, from powers that threaten us, may by Your grace, be freed. Then help us, Lord, to greet each day with hearts and wills made new and, when You call us forth to serve, to rise and follow You." (Lutheran Service Book, #541, st. 4,5).

And may the peace of God that passes all human understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

S.D.G.

Sierra Club One Day Hike - 2013 ... The Hike on 27 April

Sierra Club One Day Hike - 2013 ... The Hike on 27 April

Saturday 27 April 2013 dawned crisp, clear, and cool.

But our day started way before dawn. Earlier in the week, Ann and I drove from home to the starting place for the Sierra Club One Day Hike to check the time estimates from Mapquest and Google Maps. We also wanted to make sure we understood the directions. Ann especially wanted to make sure she would know how to get back home after dropping me off. So on hike day we knew where to go and how long it would take us.

We got up at 1:00. I'd actually slept pretty soundly. And since I had packed my bags on Thursday night, and set my hiking clothes out on the floor of my study, I was dressed and ready to leave the house at 1:15. It took us 45 or 50 minutes to drive to the Thompson's Boathouse parking lot in Georgetown, Washington, DC where people were already gathering. Ann and I said goodbye, and agreed that she would try to meet me at the second checkpoint on the hike. Ann drove home to get some more sleep. I went off to sign in and get my number.

After getting signed in there was a lot of waiting around until all the others showed up and we got our final safety talk from Mike. I sat on the curb and rested, not really understanding why so many others seemed to prefer standing or walking around. Seems to me that the first few miles would provide warm-up enough for anyone's day. The full moon was bright overhead. There was a chill in the air.

Then it was 3:00 and Mike led us out into Georgetown to the start of the canal towpath.

I usually hike alone - and did all my training alone - so it was quite different to be setting off in the dark with about 100 other hikers. Most wore headlamps and we must have been quite the sight. Anyway, as we got going I didn't feel that I was anywhere near my usual pace, but figured things would thin out as the tortises fell back and the hares leapt ahead. Then I thought I could pick up to my usual tempo.

Very soon we got to the C & O Canal itself and Mike sent us on our way. Then before very long I spied the 1 mile marker on the left side of the towpath. I thought I'd be seeing them all as we went by in a crowd, but actually missed seeing many of the markers. Things did thin out before too long, but we weren't by any means hiking alone. We passed under the Beltway and that's when I knew we were out of DC. If there was a sign at the border, I missed it, too.

Then I saw the 10 mile marker! (hadn't seen any others in the dark) I pulled out my watch to see how long it had taken to get there. It was 5:30. The arithmetic was simple: 4 miles an hour. Faster than my usual pace, so between trying not to be run over on the one hand, and trying to stay close to the people in front of me on the other hand, it was clear we were moving at a steady clip. And it was shortly after that point that I noticed that things were really thinning out. I never had the sense that a lot of people were passing me or that I was passing a lot of others. Seemed to me that those numbers evened out, and I was pretty sure that more people were in front of me than behind me. (I did ask twice at aid stations if they could give me a rough estimate of how many people were in front of me. Both times they looked at their clipboards and said, "Oh, about 25 or 30." I don't really know if that was the case or if that's what they tell everyone but the clear leaders. I had thought I was back closer to # 50 or so out of the 95-125 who were said to be starting the 100K.)

The first check-in spot came a couple miles later. The One Day Hike folks had set up tables with Gatorade on a small footbridge over the canal. We got checked off the list and I poured down two cups of Gatorade before heading on up the path. As I understand it, this is really where they get they count of how many hikers they have. I suppose someone could check in at the start, but decide at the last minute not to walk. And someone could show up at 3:05, check in and follow the crowd up the path. But if you're still walking at the 12 mile mark, you've committed to go as far as you can.

The sun had come up enough at that point that nobody had their headlamps on any longer. We passed Great Falls and I saw the trailheads for the Billy Goat Trail. Near those spots the canal was wide and beautiful as the morning mists burned off:

A mile or so before the first full aid station I saw Ann coming down the towpath to greet me. How nice! She had called my cell phone and left me a voicemail somewhere along the way, which I had noticed when I took my phone out to check the time as I left the Old Anglers check in spot. I'd called her right back and she had said she was on her way up from home. When I told her where I was she was surprised, too, at the pace I was keeping up.

I hadn't been sure Ann would get to the aid station before me, but she clearly had. As we walked in from there I enjoyed telling her that I'd seen lots of Mayapples blooming along the way, but that the best sighting so far had been a pair of red trillium that were just a day at most from opening in amongst a Mayapple stand. Very soon the Seneca Creek aid station came into view, and I settled into a chair so I could change my socks and eat some of the fruit they had available. This was our "breakfast" stop, so it included yogurt, fruit, coffee (?!), muffins, bagels, and probably other food. I gulped some down and said goodbye to Ann.

Then I was off again. The next aid station was at Edwards Ferry, only 8 miles away. On foot that's 2 or 2.5 hours. Ann made the drive much more quickly of course. As I was walking along I stopped to take a photo of the 26 mile marker (at 9:51 am), and emailed it right away to my daughter in Iowa.

I hadn't told any of my family that I was going to be walking 62 miles, so I thought maybe seeing mile markers might pique their interest. Okay, so 6 hours and 50 minutes isn't a fast marathon time; but we were walking not running -- and were only a little over 1/3 of the way done for the day.

Coming into the aid stations was always good. Even if the rest was only for a couple minutes, it broke up the day. And provided the chance for a little something different to snack on. I had packed along a "trail mix" that I made up of mixed nuts that Ann had roasted, some raisins, sunflower seeds and M&M candies. I also took along a package of store-brand lemon creme sandwich cookies. Protein, fat, sugar, and salt: the four building blocks of life. The aid stations had oranges and bananas, for example. Good stuff.

At Edwards Ferry Ann heard an older volunteer talking to another walker and understood the volunteer to say that she had walked the towpath 15 times. She also told us that we would probably be running into 50K hikers soon. It's only 4.9 miles from Edwards Ferry to Whites Ferry where the 50K starts, and in order for them to get a full 50 kilometers, they have to walk downriver a bit, make a U-turn, and only then head upriver toward Harpers Ferry. They'd all made the turn by the time I got there.

The Whites Ferry stop was our lunch stop. I stopped briefly, got a custom-made peanut butter sandwich from the support crew, changed my socks again, and shed my down vest. Ann, acting as personal support crew, took the vest and sweaty socks in her car so that I wouldn't have to carry them. Five or so miles after Whites Ferry I snapped a photo of the mile 40 marker as I passed it at a minute or two before 2:00 pm and emailed it to all my kids. The arithmetic says that's a 3.6 mph pace overall, even with the breaks at the aid stations. (Didn't figure that out at the time the way I often figured my pace during practice hikes, but having timed a few individual miles during the day I felt good about my pace.) I seemed to be on target to finish by 10 pm.

On to the Monocacy River stop, 6.4 miles ahead, at the 42 mile marker. This was where Ann and I had visited the canal a few weeks earlier. It's one of the many places where the amazing engineering of the 19th century is still visible. What to do when you're building a canal alongside the Potomac River, and another creek or river joins in from the same side? Well, if you're building the C&O Canal, you build a culvert for the smaller creeks and run them under the canal; or you build an aqueduct for your canal when you come to something the size of the Monocacy River.

I stopped to change socks, get a snack, put a couple quick bandaids on two toes, and talk with Ann. She took a photo of me there at just before 2:45:

There was a volunteer at this stop who asked about the hike and seemed unable to grasp why anyone would actually walk that far. I told him "for the glory" not really knowing what I meant by that. And, no, I'd never done anything like this before. Ann added that I had, of course, done some training hikes. It wasn't until I was a couple miles up the towpath that I thought I could have told him that my training hikes included 5 weekends where I walked 50 K distances by myself with no aid stations, no embroidered patch at the end, no glory.

It was a bit after this station, that there was a secret spot aid station for the hike. It was just a couple people with a cooler of bottled water. I took advantage of the opportunity to soak my bandana and pour a little water over my head cool off a little. It was never really hot during the day, but this was the warmest part of the day and I did need the cooling that provided.

The next aid station was at Point of Rocks, presumably named for some navigation hazard in the river. This was the "dinner" stop for the hike. They were serving hot soup that held no appeal for me at all. But I did order a lettuce, tomato, and cheese sandwich, washed down with about a liter of Gatorade.

While I was eating, seated on a small grassy hill, Ann noticed some other folks spraying themselves down with some sort of bug repellant. I hadn't noticed any bugs worth worrying over during my whole walk, so that held no interest for me. I suppose a July or August hike might have called for bug spray.

Another change of socks and I was on my way.

The whole hike was passing fairly quickly. Here's the C&O Canal in typical disrepair -- filled with trees and bushes rather than water -- as it appeared through much of the walk:

With the stops so close together, they seemed to come up quickly. During my training hikes at home, my mind would fill and empty several times over. I'd think about all sorts of things: work situations, writing ideas, birds I was hearing, the cold wind blowing off the Potomac in February and March, how many laps I had done and what my target distance was for he day, and more. On the One Day Hike, I found I was pretty well focused on the moment. How am I feeling? Is my pace good? Can I pick it up a notch? Should I time the next mile? Can I catch that person in front of me?

The Brunswick aid station was 6.6 miles beyond Point of Rocks. Towards the end of that leg, I think it was, the towpath turned into a road or driveway for some large summer camp sort of affair. Ann met me before I got to that part of it, and we walked in together as usual. Somewhere along the last mile before Brunswick I felt a blister pop up on the little toe of my right foot. It was at about the 50 mile mark. I had never done a 50 mile training hike, though I'd thought about it, and the blister just may have been avoided if I had. Or maybe not.

At Brunswick I hobbled into the first aid part of the station, took a seat and un-booted my feet. One of the first aid workers attended to blisters on both feet while Ann was filling my Nalgenes with drink. I took another ibuprofen or two, as I had done about every 4 hours, put on fresh socks and my boots, and stepped very gingerly out of the first aid tent.

It was still light, but late in the day. The next stop was the last one, and sat 7.3 miles ahead. It would take a bit to get there. I've found that whenever I'm hiking or backpacking more than just a couple miles, it's always hard to convince the soles of my feet to get started again, especially after having had my boots off. Usually that settles out after a dozen steps. This time, it took a couple miles.

I fell in with a 50K walker and we talked a bit as we went on. Less than a mile out of Brunswick I stopped at the 55 mile marker to take a photo of it, and told her I had emailed a couple photos to my kids without comments so as to make them curious about what I was doing. She offered to take a picture of me next to the marker, which I thought was nice. 

That was at 7:24 pm. The day was moving on. If I could get my tempo back I had another 2 and a half hours of walking ahead of me to make the 10 pm target (and even if not, there didn't seem to be anything getting in the way of finishing by the midnight cut-off time).

We walked on, and after a couple miles, as I said, my feet started to feel better again. Whether the nerve endings just gave up sending pain signals, or the ibuprofen kicked in, or what, I'm not sure. Anyway, I remarked on it and the other hiker urged me to go on at my own speed. I wished her good hiking and headed off ahead of her (she got to the finish while we were still there, not too far behind me).

Darkness settled in and the few hikers nearby -- mostly 50 K hikers, I think -- turned on their headlamps. They struck me as 50 K walkers because they were in groups of 2 and 4 and chatting. The 100K walkers were pretty much all solo artists by this point, focused, determined, and really not chatting (although I had just talked for 2 miles, hadn't I?).

The full moon hadn't risen yet and I checked my backpack again for the headlamp that I was pretty sure I had left in a pocket of the down vest Ann had taken for me. Yeah, it wasn't in the pack. The plus side of that was that then Ann could use it as she came down from the finish line to walk with me. And that she did. She must have come out about 2 miles from the end point, down the hill through town, across the bridge over the Potomac, down the towpath. It was good, as it always is, to see her.

People had talked about how hard it is to climb the stairs from the towpath to the bridge, and then to walk up the mile-long hill through Harpers Ferry. I didn't find either hard on my legs. Different muscle groups maybe. Or that I had trained well enough. What I would have found hard (without Ann) was convincing myself that I hadn't missed a turn on the walk up through town. The One Day Hike volunteers were there where we left the towpath at the bridge, and in Harpers Ferry at the bottom of the town (in the historic area), pointing the way to go. But blocks and blocks later, with no signs pointing the way, my certainty was wavering. Without my guide at my side I may have faltered. (There's a sermon illustration in there.) Until, eventually and finally, there were volunteers at the spot where we were to cross the road and head into the Bolivar Community Center.

Then it was over. Just before 10:00 pm. Cheers from the volunteers at the finish line as they checked my number off and wrote down the time. A photo taken. A colorful patch given. Some more food. Sitting a spell. And then off to our hotel, where Ann had already checked us in.

It was only in the last couple miles that my legs bothered me at all, and that was a spot behind my knee, not in my muscles. Lots of rest over Sunday, and more ibuprofen cleared that up quickly, too. And by Tuesday my toes and soles were recovered.

Now, a week later, I'm saying things to myself like "Well, if I do it again, I'll make notes along the way while I'm walking. And I'll take photos of the rest stops and volunteers."

But we'll see about that later. Right now I am thinking that since the available spots are so sought after, that the nice thing to do would be to sit back let someone else sign up in the February scramble for spots. Then, just maybe, if there is room and the registration re-opens later, maybe then I might sign up for another round.