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Irvine United Congregational Church Rev. Paul Tellström Epiphany 5C “Here I Am” February 4, 2007
Hebrew Reading: Isaiah 6:1-8 word count 1,981 Gospel: Luke 5:-1-11
“I need to speak to a Christian minister.” When I came out of my office to see who was waiting for me, I found a strong man in his late thirties, disheveled, and making the kind of fierce eye-contact that causes discomfort. He could see right through me. We went outside and sat on the benches, and he started to tell me his story. He was direct, told me how to verify what he was telling me, and said that the most important thing that needed to be told was the fact that the only missing soldier in Iraq is named Sergeant Matt Maupin. Matt was captured and has been missing since April, 2004. To honor Matt and his family, Benjamin (that is his name) is bicycling across the country to bring attention to what so few people know about—this missing soldier. His bike was stolen on his way down from Northern California, and he is depending on Christian ministers to help him on his way. His feet are blistered, his clothes smell—he needs money to wash clothes and to buy a new bike. We all made a small donation this week, along with a bag containing food that can be eaten on the open road. Benjamin has heard his call and answered, “Send me.” Everywhere he goes, candles are lit for Matt Maupin, figuratively or otherwise, reminding us of the one lost sheep that Benjamin, in his extreme commitment, wants to raise consciousness about so that he might be found. I went on the web to an address he gave me, and in an online dirt-bike forum, there is a chronicle of his travels from those who have come in contact with him. He has been described as a Forest Gump-like character, bent on one mission; there is concern for him, and we are entreated to help. I added my voice to the others—“Benjamin is here in Irvine, heading south. He needs your assistance. Pastors—he is very real and looking to you for help.” To honor what he is dedicating himself to do, I lit a candle to remind us of Matt Maupin. We often light the candle for the candle’s sake. Yet the Spirit that touches us within never lights the candle in our soul for the candle’s sake alone. There is a Power that lights fires in cold rooms, cold hearts, and cold societies, a fire for illumination and warmth. Earl Grey wrote a striking eulogy after the death of his father, a former Governor of Canada, “He lit so many fires in cold rooms.”1 There are so many cold rooms. Some are cold for lack of heat, but most are cold for lack of sympathy, meaning, humility, friendship, and hope. Today there is inspiration in thinking of a young Isaiah who went into the temple at Jerusalem with a dejected spirit. Problems faced his world, and the man who was supposed to deal with them, King Uzziah, had died. Isaiah’s world was like the chill of a cold room. In that temple he found reviving warmth that redirected his whole purpose. We do the same when we examine our own reason for being in a house of worship in our own day and time. And, there have been many commentaries
written on the incredible visions of strange things that Isaiah saw in
the temple and what might have caused them. There are those who come because the church helps one’s reputation in the eyes of social respectability. They are there to light the candle for the candle’s sake. And then there are those who think of worship as a glorified Bufferin tablet to guarantee or induce a little peace of mind away from the petty problems of business and family. Again, they come to light the candle for the candle’s sake. Today’s story has little interest in those wrong reasons. It is saturated with the positive and creative reasons people find to come to worship. It is a text for those for whom life can sometimes seem to be lonely, empty, and unfulfilled. It is a tale for those who are confused by the noisy clatter of a technological, materialistic world in pursuit of the next upgrade, and who have come to earnestly ask, “Is God still speaking?” It is a passage for those who experience incompetence, aching fears, and a life whose structures are becoming twisted. It is a legend for those who need a soul-reviving warmth and illumination. Isaiah’s vision happened “in the year that King Uzziah died.” In a nut-shell, here’s what happened. The king had raised the kingdom of Judah to its highest levels of peace and prosperity since the glory days of David and Solomon. Unfortunately King Uzziah blew it. He was a religious man, but he was also a man who loved power. One day, he marched into the temple and decided he would be the priest. He took the golden censer filled with incense and went into the Holy Place, where only the priest had a right to go. The officiating priest told King Uzziah that wasn’t how things were done, and the king became enraged. King Uzziah went to worship but he quit when the priest would not let him light the fire or swing the incense for his own ends. The call, vision, and response of
Isaiah contrasts sharply with the lack of call, lack of vision, and lack
of response on the part of Uzziah. By contrast, Isaiah’s response to the voice of God saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” was quite direct. “Here am I. Send me.” The text points us toward powerful contrasts in the motivations of two men, both of whom considered themselves religious. One tried to light a fire for the fire’s sake, and the other found the fire purging him of his coldness, darkness, and despair. Isaiah had something awakened in him by the setting worship provided. The name of the priest, the songs that were sung, the readings and the bulletin were not listed as having been particularly important. What was important was the fact that Isaiah had a place to go that was important for him, a place to center himself, and a proper motivation within his soul with which to worship. The church is important for the
relationships and settings it provides. Even today, or especially
today, there is a need for us to worship and serve together in company.
The ability to examine deeply requires a relationship with other human
beings. Here is where the candles are lit to bring the illumination, so
that it can be said of us that we heard and answered the call, and spent
our lives lighting fires in the hearths of cold rooms. Consider the possibility that in this year, not in the year of the death of kings, nor in the year of corrupt priests, nor in the year of the poor catch of fish, but in this year of economic anxieties and political posturing, in this year of job pressures and overloaded schedules, in this year of relationship ups and downs, and kids’ problems at school—in this year, which is, in fact, like virtually every other year from the beginning of creation—Consider the possibility that in this year, God stands before you somehow, somewhere, in the form of someone familiar or unexpected, and says to you, “Whom shall I send?” Somewhere, here in this sanctuary or outside in the company of friends, on the way home or at work this week, you hear, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And if you find the possibility of hearing those words in a life so overloaded you hardly have time to breathe; if you find the possibility of hearing those words as frightening as I do, then you should know that we are in good company, for that is the very fear that drove Isaiah to his knees, as well as Simon Peter beside his fishing boat during the catch of his lifetime in the presence of Jesus who would make of his disciples “fishers of men and women.” The possibility of such a transfiguration is terrifying and astonishing and amazing! Yet we have lived too long without amazement in our lives. If being part of the church means you’re just here for a while because it suits you now, then we have trouble ahead, unless you can see the possibility that in this very ordinary year you might look up from where you are sitting with new sight, or wake from a sound sleep, or gaze up into the heights of the sanctuary and hear some familiar voice saying, “Come on, there’s got to be more to it than this!” Benjamin depends on religious communities to help him light a candle for Matt Maupin, our soldier missing in Iraq. And he can see right through us. Some, like Uzziah, light the candle for the candle’s sake. Somewhere right now he is patiently waiting for a service to end so that he can approach that community for help—a place to wash his clothes, money for the bike that will bring him back east, even some food. But mostly, his journey is about a call he has heard and answered, that we might know about one missing man, a man he has never met. “Whom shall I send?” God is still speaking to us. And I truly believe that the “yes” is within each of us, yearning to break through. I believe that the potential to say yes to God, to life, with passion, with astonishment, even with amazement, does exist within each one of us. It exists within us waiting for the unexpected moment when we will hear a call echoing through the heights and depths of our lives. And we will say ...? That one little moment is worth a lifetime. That one little moment is what we were made for. “Here am I, send me.”
Sermon Resources 1. As quoted by W. A. Cameron, “The Potter's Wheel” (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1927), pp. 219-220. 2. See “What Are You Doing in Church,” pp. 73-81, in Donald Macleod, Higher Reaches (London: Epworth Press, 1971). General—“Lighting A Fire in A Cold Room,” by Harold
C. Warlick Scripture for Sunday, February 8, 2004 5th Sunday in Epiphany
Isaiah 6: 1 - 8
In the year that King Uzzi’ah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And one called to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.” The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke. And I said: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!”
GOSPEL: Luke 5: 1 - 11 (all)
Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennes’aret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zeb’edee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him. |