| THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF THE REDEEMER BROOKHAVEN, MISSISSIPPI |
| HOLY EUCHARIST SUNDAY 10:00 AM |
Sermon by The Rev. Dr. E. Gene Bennett
Episcopal Church of the Redeemer
Brookhaven, Mississippi
June 21, 2009
Mark 4: 35-41
From the tomes of pseudo-history and comedy comes a story about Jesus traveling
to Scotland in his 20s. His exploits were recorded in the "Golf Stick Gospels." As
part of a first century Druid cover up, the manuscripts were buried deep under
what eventually became the 18th hole of the St. Andrews golf course. They
remained hidden until the 1980s when a local mole poked its head out of the hole
and squeezed up alongside the flag. Stuck to the mole were remnants of a papyrus
manuscript - "Golf Stick Gospels."
Enough texts were recovered to piece together Jesus' time in Scotland. One of the
more interesting stories in the "Golf Stick Gospels" records the time that Jesus,
Moses and some old guy were playing golf in Scotland.
Moses teed off, sliced the shot and it landed square in the middle of a lake. As calm
as you like, Moses walked up to the lake, raised his 9 iron in the air and the waters
parted. Moses walked down the middle of the parted waters, lined up and played
his shot. One putt later, he parred the hole!
Jesus rolled his eyes at his aging ancestor and then teed off himself. He hooked
his shot and it too landed in a lake. He strolled down the fairway, paused briefly at
the lake edge, then marched out along the top of the water. He arrived at the point
where the ball had landed, reached down and picked it up. Nonchalantly, he placed
the ball on top of the water and struck it perfectly. It went straight into the hole. A
birdie! He gave Moses one of those knowing golfer looks, and stood aside for the
old guy to tee off.
The old guy hit the ball and it went high into the air, bounced up off a tree, and
landed in the mouth of a passing pelican. The bird continued to fly down the fairway
until a freak storm passed over the course. Lightning struck the bird just as it was
flying over the hole causing it to drop the ball. It landed directly in the hole. A hole
in one.
Moses was dumbstruck. Jesus turned to the old guy and cried out, "Jeez Dad, can't
you play golf like everyone else?"
Today's gospel reading records the familiar story about Jesus calming a storm
while out boating with his disciples. It's one of the miracles stories attached to
Jesus in the New Testament. Some see such stories as fact; some see them as
fiction. Some see them as fanciful as the story about Jesus in Scotland. Clearly the
word "miracle" is used to describe a great variety of events or occurrences.
It has been used to describe the victory of one team over another in a sporting
event. For example, the U.S. hockey team's defeat of the Soviet Union in the 1980
Olympics was called a miracle. Some of us are old enough to remember that upset
nearly thirty years ago.
Some use the word "miracle" in reference to awesome natural phenomenon. How
many times have we heard someone say when they saw a newborn baby, "That's a
miracle"? How often have we used the word "miracle" in response to seeing
something in nature like the Rocky Mountains, Niagara Falls or beholding the
ocean for the first time?
"Miracle" is also used to describe "divine intervention" in human affairs - like the
kind of miracle described in our reading this morning from Mark's gospel. Here
caution may be necessary in attributing some kind of miracle to God that God might
or might not have done. Think about that air crash a few months ago when the
plane taking off from an airport runs into some geese. The pilot loses power in
both engines yet somehow glides the plane down on a river and everyone
survives. What did we call it? "The Miracle on the Hudson." The survivors, feeling
they had been given a second chance at life, understandably called it a miracle.
Before we attribute that as a miracle from God, however, think about what
happened a month later with Continental Flight 3407 that crashed in Buffalo, New
York killing everyone aboard. If God saved one plane, why didn't God save the
second plane? If we have a loved one on Flight 3407, we would probably wonder
where God was God for us or our loved one. One person's miracle may be another
person's divine failure or gut wrenching doubt.
We experience this dilemma frequently, which moves me to say that faith does not
mean having all the answers; rarely can we explain everything that happens. In
fact, faith is just the opposite in healthy theology. Faith is living without all the
answers and still trusting God; faith may be living with some skepticism and
wrenching doubt. In no way does doubt signal a weak faith or loss of respect.
Remember the comedian, Rodney Dangerfield, whom no one respected? When
Rodney was feeling bad one time, he visited his physician and his doctor asked
what was wrong. Dangerfield said: "I'm feeling bad. Every time I look in the mirror I
throw up." The doctor said, "Look at it this way; your eyesight is perfect!"
There are at least two reasons the church remembers and tells miracle stories.
Clearly, on the one hand, it presents Jesus in a most dramatic light. Even the wind
and sea obey him! On the other hand, the church remembers and tells these
stories because they point to a central theological affirmation. Even when the
storms of life engulf us, God is with us still! When the waves crash against our
fragile boats, when life seems to be falling apart on all fronts, it is important to
remember that God is in the boat with us.
I am not saying this story is some empty allegory, and I am not saying that things
didn't happen just the way we heard them, impossible as they may seem. Miracles
do happen. If you ask me if Jesus literally calmed the storm, literally walked on
water, I will answer, "For certain, I do not know. But this I do know: faith must be
lived before it is understood, and the more it is lived, the more things become
possible." In life after life I have seen faith change whiskey into furniture,
hate-filled relations into loving ones, cowardice into courage, the fatigue of
despair into the buoyancy of hope. How? I don't know, but that's miracle enough for
me.
It is one of the great ironies of the spiritual life that the more we seriously explore
the mysteries of God, the more we realize how little we will ever know. In fact, true
progress in the spiritual life is not measured by greater knowledge and clarity, but
by a deepening sense of awe and wonder. We know we are making progress in the
spiritual life when we have a growing sense of wonder and a diminishing sense of
certainty. In fact, when we meet someone who is very clear about God, to the point
that he or she feels a need to straighten out everyone else, we should probably be
very cautious. We are quick to create a god in our own image, and when we do that
we may start to realize - amazingly - that God hates all the same people we hate.
Excessive religious certainty is simply dangerous.
Well, my pilgrim friends, we are in this boat together and religious certainty is not
our goal. May we embrace a faith that leaves us open to grow - even when we feel
terrified, bewildered, and awestruck some of the time.
God loves you!
Attribution is due the following for words, thinking and influence in preparing this
sermon: Thomas R. Cook, "Walking on Water," Trinity Episcopal Church,
Swarthmore; William Sloane Coffin, "Credo" Westminster John Knox Press, 2004;
Ian Lawton, "The Whims of Nature: Bible and Ecology"; Dr. Kipp Wolfe, "Do You
Believe in Miracles?"; The Very Rev. James A. Diamond, "Calming the Storm,"
Christ Church Cathedral, Cincinnati, Ohio; Phil Haslanger, "Going to the Other
Side"; Sarah Jackson Shelton, "The Sleeping Jesus."
Episcopal Church of the Redeemer
Brookhaven, Mississippi
June 21, 2009
Mark 4: 35-41
From the tomes of pseudo-history and comedy comes a story about Jesus traveling
to Scotland in his 20s. His exploits were recorded in the "Golf Stick Gospels." As
part of a first century Druid cover up, the manuscripts were buried deep under
what eventually became the 18th hole of the St. Andrews golf course. They
remained hidden until the 1980s when a local mole poked its head out of the hole
and squeezed up alongside the flag. Stuck to the mole were remnants of a papyrus
manuscript - "Golf Stick Gospels."
Enough texts were recovered to piece together Jesus' time in Scotland. One of the
more interesting stories in the "Golf Stick Gospels" records the time that Jesus,
Moses and some old guy were playing golf in Scotland.
Moses teed off, sliced the shot and it landed square in the middle of a lake. As calm
as you like, Moses walked up to the lake, raised his 9 iron in the air and the waters
parted. Moses walked down the middle of the parted waters, lined up and played
his shot. One putt later, he parred the hole!
Jesus rolled his eyes at his aging ancestor and then teed off himself. He hooked
his shot and it too landed in a lake. He strolled down the fairway, paused briefly at
the lake edge, then marched out along the top of the water. He arrived at the point
where the ball had landed, reached down and picked it up. Nonchalantly, he placed
the ball on top of the water and struck it perfectly. It went straight into the hole. A
birdie! He gave Moses one of those knowing golfer looks, and stood aside for the
old guy to tee off.
The old guy hit the ball and it went high into the air, bounced up off a tree, and
landed in the mouth of a passing pelican. The bird continued to fly down the fairway
until a freak storm passed over the course. Lightning struck the bird just as it was
flying over the hole causing it to drop the ball. It landed directly in the hole. A hole
in one.
Moses was dumbstruck. Jesus turned to the old guy and cried out, "Jeez Dad, can't
you play golf like everyone else?"
Today's gospel reading records the familiar story about Jesus calming a storm
while out boating with his disciples. It's one of the miracles stories attached to
Jesus in the New Testament. Some see such stories as fact; some see them as
fiction. Some see them as fanciful as the story about Jesus in Scotland. Clearly the
word "miracle" is used to describe a great variety of events or occurrences.
It has been used to describe the victory of one team over another in a sporting
event. For example, the U.S. hockey team's defeat of the Soviet Union in the 1980
Olympics was called a miracle. Some of us are old enough to remember that upset
nearly thirty years ago.
Some use the word "miracle" in reference to awesome natural phenomenon. How
many times have we heard someone say when they saw a newborn baby, "That's a
miracle"? How often have we used the word "miracle" in response to seeing
something in nature like the Rocky Mountains, Niagara Falls or beholding the
ocean for the first time?
"Miracle" is also used to describe "divine intervention" in human affairs - like the
kind of miracle described in our reading this morning from Mark's gospel. Here
caution may be necessary in attributing some kind of miracle to God that God might
or might not have done. Think about that air crash a few months ago when the
plane taking off from an airport runs into some geese. The pilot loses power in
both engines yet somehow glides the plane down on a river and everyone
survives. What did we call it? "The Miracle on the Hudson." The survivors, feeling
they had been given a second chance at life, understandably called it a miracle.
Before we attribute that as a miracle from God, however, think about what
happened a month later with Continental Flight 3407 that crashed in Buffalo, New
York killing everyone aboard. If God saved one plane, why didn't God save the
second plane? If we have a loved one on Flight 3407, we would probably wonder
where God was God for us or our loved one. One person's miracle may be another
person's divine failure or gut wrenching doubt.
We experience this dilemma frequently, which moves me to say that faith does not
mean having all the answers; rarely can we explain everything that happens. In
fact, faith is just the opposite in healthy theology. Faith is living without all the
answers and still trusting God; faith may be living with some skepticism and
wrenching doubt. In no way does doubt signal a weak faith or loss of respect.
Remember the comedian, Rodney Dangerfield, whom no one respected? When
Rodney was feeling bad one time, he visited his physician and his doctor asked
what was wrong. Dangerfield said: "I'm feeling bad. Every time I look in the mirror I
throw up." The doctor said, "Look at it this way; your eyesight is perfect!"
There are at least two reasons the church remembers and tells miracle stories.
Clearly, on the one hand, it presents Jesus in a most dramatic light. Even the wind
and sea obey him! On the other hand, the church remembers and tells these
stories because they point to a central theological affirmation. Even when the
storms of life engulf us, God is with us still! When the waves crash against our
fragile boats, when life seems to be falling apart on all fronts, it is important to
remember that God is in the boat with us.
I am not saying this story is some empty allegory, and I am not saying that things
didn't happen just the way we heard them, impossible as they may seem. Miracles
do happen. If you ask me if Jesus literally calmed the storm, literally walked on
water, I will answer, "For certain, I do not know. But this I do know: faith must be
lived before it is understood, and the more it is lived, the more things become
possible." In life after life I have seen faith change whiskey into furniture,
hate-filled relations into loving ones, cowardice into courage, the fatigue of
despair into the buoyancy of hope. How? I don't know, but that's miracle enough for
me.
It is one of the great ironies of the spiritual life that the more we seriously explore
the mysteries of God, the more we realize how little we will ever know. In fact, true
progress in the spiritual life is not measured by greater knowledge and clarity, but
by a deepening sense of awe and wonder. We know we are making progress in the
spiritual life when we have a growing sense of wonder and a diminishing sense of
certainty. In fact, when we meet someone who is very clear about God, to the point
that he or she feels a need to straighten out everyone else, we should probably be
very cautious. We are quick to create a god in our own image, and when we do that
we may start to realize - amazingly - that God hates all the same people we hate.
Excessive religious certainty is simply dangerous.
Well, my pilgrim friends, we are in this boat together and religious certainty is not
our goal. May we embrace a faith that leaves us open to grow - even when we feel
terrified, bewildered, and awestruck some of the time.
God loves you!
Attribution is due the following for words, thinking and influence in preparing this
sermon: Thomas R. Cook, "Walking on Water," Trinity Episcopal Church,
Swarthmore; William Sloane Coffin, "Credo" Westminster John Knox Press, 2004;
Ian Lawton, "The Whims of Nature: Bible and Ecology"; Dr. Kipp Wolfe, "Do You
Believe in Miracles?"; The Very Rev. James A. Diamond, "Calming the Storm,"
Christ Church Cathedral, Cincinnati, Ohio; Phil Haslanger, "Going to the Other
Side"; Sarah Jackson Shelton, "The Sleeping Jesus."