The Rev. Mark Beckwith
Sermon
John 3:1-16 & Exodus 3:1-6
A sermon preached on June 11, 2006 at All Saints Church in Worcester, MA
In our first lesson this morning, we have the story of Moses and the burning bush. This past summer I saw the burning bush. That’s what I was told. It wasn’t burning - nor did I hear the voice of God, but I saw the bush. It is located just behind the chapel at St. Catherine’s monastery in the middle of the Sinai desert, – at the foot of Mt. Sinai, and just inside the monastery wall. The story goes that they have tried to cut a sprig off the bush and propagate it elsewhere - and it won’t. It only grows where it is. Over the centuries, it has become quite big - it looks more like a tree than a bush. It is about fifteen feet high and fifteen feet across.
It was a big disappointment - mainly because it is hard to stretch one’s faith to embrace this botanical aberration. And I have to say that it didn’t help to see a fire extinguisher attached to the monastery wall right next to it. I have a picture of me holding the thing - which probably dated back to the Nasser administration -put there, I suppose, in case the whole thing self combusts.
I can make light of the bush - and make light of the story of Moses’ encounter with God - who was burning inside the bush. I have always wanted that mystical encounter - that would deepen my faith, affirm the direction of my life - and set me on a clear path. I haven’t had them - at least not with the intensity that Moses did.
There are a whole bunch of reasons for this; but the main reason is because I have been resistant to them.
The bush tells Moses to take off his shoes, because the place he is standing is on holy ground. I am reluctant to take off my shoes - or my persona - or my armor of cynicism - because I have learned that I need them. More, it turns out, than the need to risk standing – open and vulnerable, on holy ground. I need my psychic sneakers to dash away from danger and fear. I need my combat boots for the small battles and all out wars. I need my tap dancing shoes to maneuver through the minefields of my work and my life. I need my Kevlar vest to protect me from the stuff that gets shot at me.
These are all tools of protection - and I come by them honestly. I had my first psychic injury when I was about five. I have a vague memory of what it was - but I do remember – quite clearly, the feeling of being scared. I instinctively put something on to protect me, and it worked - sort of. And as more injuries came along (and they did - as they do for all of us), I put on other bandages, which yielded - maybe not armor, but some sort of protective barrier – psychic shoes or shin guards or knee pads – in anticipation of the next assault or put down or disappointment.
I have studied my injuries very carefully - and the connection between the injuries and whatever covering or bandage or protection I put over them. As I got older I managed to find protection all the way up my body. When I got to my head, I was old enough - and smart enough (or so I thought) to have discovered an invisible helmet of protection. I could use my mind to be a skeptic or a cynic. I could mentally put people down - and did; I could silently make a rational case for an idea or a person or a group being stupid - and did. I created all sorts rational arguments, which provided mental distance between myself and dangerous or dicey situations- which was its own sort of protection.
And so when I first really paid attention to the third chapter of John’s Gospel - which happened during college when I took a course on the New Testament - my mental ability for rational skepticism was - by then, a finely tuned machine. I took great pride in poking holes in flimsy arguments. When Jesus tells Nicodemus that he must be born from above - my first reaction was, “I don’t think so.” No way that a second birth can happen - or a virgin birth for that matter.
Now Nicodemus was trying to understand what Jesus was talking about. As a college sophomore, I had no interest. Nicodemus - a learned and respected leader of the Jews - wanted to take off his intellectual shoes - and discover a new holy ground. There was a time in my life when I was looking for as many pairs of intellectual shoes I could find. For me, faith seemed foolish - because it left me open and exposed to the dangers of the world. And besides, there was a whole theological overlay of original sin, which suggested that danger and darkness were things that were divinely ordained and that you could never escape. Holy ground was a fantasy. Why bother.
But I learned - slowly and cautiously, that putting on all that intellectual and psychic protection takes a lot of work. It is tiring. It also left me feeling - and being, isolated. I also learned - slowly, that faith is not about protection, but about freedom – God’s freedom. Faith is not something to figure out and understand - but is a gift to claim. Faith is daring to take off our shoes and step out on holy ground.
Today is Trinity Sunday, arguably the most boring day in the liturgical calendar. It is the only Sunday of the year when we celebrate a concept - a very complicated concept that took a long time to develop and a lot of faith to embrace. The Doctrine of the Trinity is the product of the Council of Nicea - held in 323, which was convened by the Emperor Constantine, who had just become a Christian. Constantine demanded that the bishops come up with a common statement of faith - which would unify what had just become the Holy Roman Empire. The bishops arrived at the Council with deep divisions among them, which centered on the nature of Jesus. Some took the position that Jesus was fully human; others were adamant that Jesus was fully divine. Insults were tossed about like holy water. They were locked in a nasty, and sometimes violent, stalemate. After endless filibustering, the contingent from Cappadocia (an ancient city in what is now southern Turkey) proposed a compromise: “Stop, you are both right. Jesus is fully divine and fully human. And Jesus is coeternal with the Father and the Spirit. One ousion and three hypostases, which in Greek means one substance and three accidents - God as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Problem solved. The Cappadocian solution comes down to us as the Nicene Creed, which we will recite in a few minutes. From an intellectual level, the doctrine of the Trinity, which is embedded in the Creed, represents some of the most challenging - and confounding, elements of Greek philosophy. Its intellectual sophistication renders it almost inaccessible.
But from a faith point of view, the Trinity suggests the many ways that God is willing to be in relationship with us - as Father (or Mother), as Son, as Holy Spirit. God will disclose God’s self in a burning bush - or will be present in the bread and wine - or in the text of scripture or a hymn - that we say or sing or pray silently to ourselves. God wants to be with us - wherever we are, however we are. God wants to be present to us, so that we can be set free. Set free from fear - and from the need for endless forms of psychic protection.
Take off your shoes. Dare to walk on holy ground. Walk on holy ground with the community of the Holy One who - mysteriously and wondrously - AT THE SAME TIME, is the God who creates us, the Son who sets us free - and the Spirit who promises to be with us - even to the end of the ages.
Take off your psychic sneakers and your invisible helmets. We don’t need them. This multi-dimensional, yet one God is not about insult and injury, but is fully engaged in the business of blessing. Lots of it. Over and over again. We feel that blessing best and trust that blessing most when we can feel the holy ground right beneath our bare feet.
