Something I found that I didn't know I had...

Looking through a file of old stuff, I found the sermon I preached on the first anniversary of my priesthood. I didn't know I had it. I preached it at St. James Church in Charleston. West Virginia on May 15, 1977,exactly a year after my ordination to the priesthood. Frankly, I don't remember it at all. It is typed (yes, typed!) on the back of bulletin covers that say, "you are my disciples if you have love for one another". I tore the 8 1/2 x 11 covers in two and the pages of the sermon are 8 1/2 inches by 5 1/2 inches, double spaced.

I've been a priest for 38 years since then, come May 15. And though I'd edit a few things about this sermon, by in large, I'd stand by it all these years later.

I thought I'd share it with you tonight.


May 15, 1977

What is a Priest?

     Woe is me! I am lost.
     For I am a man of unclean lips.
     And I dwell among a people of unclean lips.
     Yet, with these eyes, I have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts.

With those words, the prophet Isaiah proclaimed the irony of his call from God. He is not worthy to serve the Lord. He is a man on unclean lips. And yet with his eyes, he has seen God--he has been called.

Today is the anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood. I have been a priest one year.

A year ago today I stood before the bishop as he asked the question of you, the congregation: "IS HE WORTHY?"

You responded, loudly as I remember, it pleases me to say, "HE IS WORTHY! HE IS WORTHY!"

Today I remember your words and I must echo Isaiah's lament: "Woe is me! I am lost. For I am a man of unclean lips."

I want to share my thoughts and feelings with you about priesthood. I want to share what and who I think a priest must be. I want to say something about miy role in your midst.

There is no better place to begin than with Isaiah: I am a man of unclean lips and I dwell among a people of unclean lips.

As your priest, I am no better and no worse than the best and the worst in you. A priest is one of the people--a member of the community. There's nothing 'special' about a priest--nothing 'special' at all.

Although we are all to be priests and servants of God. Although, as priest, I am merely one of t he people, my ordination does 'set me apart'.

A priest is 'set apart'--not by virtue of goodness, not to be an example, not as someone admired--a priest is set apart to serve--to fill needs and fulfill roles for the community, the people of God.

In that sense, I am set apart in your midst--I must be a story teller, an enchanter, a dreamer and a lover.

A priest must be a story-teller, a teller of tales.

I must tell you tales as we sit by the fire, our eyes glowing. I must weave for you the fabric of a story.

I must tell my tale, to those who care to hear.

I am a madman in the market place, telling stories.

And always the story is the same. Always.

The words are different each time. I change the details, the embellishments, the subtleties...but never mind, the story is the same.

I tell it over and over and over again.

This is my story, simply put: Once upon a time, we dwelled with God --and now, though we are far from God, God comes to us--God dwells with us, we are God's own.

Over and over I must tell that story to those who care to hear.


A priest must also be an enchanter, a magician of sorts, an illusionist.

I must grab reality and turn it over in my hand and show it to you all new, changed, altered, transformed--somehow enchanted.

I must tale the craziness and sickness and pain of your life and hold them mean...so near that they become a part of me, so when I let them go, they are transformed. Oh, craziness is still crazy and sick is still sick and pain still hurts, be they are different--enchanted, bearable.

I must pick up dead things along our road and carry them in my pocket and pull them out, alive again.

You say that's madness?

It may well be.

It may be mad to take bread and wine--such common things--and hold them out as Christ's Body and his Blood.

I must take a life--a life like yours or mine--a life of unclean lips and unclean hearts and show how that life belongs to God. How you and I are children of the Lord.

You and I--flesh and blood and bone--you and I are priceless, eternal, loved by God.

It is all true--but our eyes must be enchanted if we would see the King.

A priest must be a dreamer.

I must dream dreams for you. I must dream dreams you dare not dream. Dreams bigger than you believe in.'

I must dream for you...not because I know more about dreaming than you do,but because I know more about you than you know.

As your priest I know you belong to God. I know you are truly beautiful. I know you are priceless and eternal. I know no dream, no matter how large, can be too large for you.

So I dream your dreams...drams of growth and hope and wonder, dreams worthy of you. Dreams fit for the Children of the King.

I dream dreams you may not want dreamed--dreams that may frighten you, or threaten you, or bring you pain. I dream dreams that may never come true--because I've learned something saddens and liberates me--I can only dream for you. You must chose to make them true or let them die.

I must dream them. As your priest, I must dream for you because I know who you are.

Finally, and most importantly: a priest must be a Lover.

I must love you. I must love you, no matter what. No matter how petty or mean or unlovable I think you are, I must love you.

And that doesn't mean I will protect and shield you. That doesn't mean I won't let you fail and fall. Some would have me be more directive, more controlling, sterner--some would have me make demands I won't make.

And I won't do that. My love isn't like that. The love of a priest, when it is at it's best--let's go...my love let's you go and lets you be yourself--free to fail and free to soar.

But then, I know who you are: Children of the King. I know you are eagles, you can soar. You are beautiful, priceless, eternal, God's own.

Woe is me! I am lost.

It sounds so much--too much to ask of anyone. Too much, certainly, for a man of unclean lips in the midst of a people of unclean lips. It is too much. To be a priest is too much to ask.

And yet, it is asked. It is required by God.

These eyes have seen the King.

Today is the anniversary of my ordination. I have made it one year--not because of my skills or my gifts (thought I am aware that I am blessed with skill and talent). I have made it this far because God has brought me to this place and you have given me your trust, your prayers, your kindness, your understanding and your love.

You have been patient with me. And kind. And gentle.

I do not live up to my own expectations. It is too much to ask.

And yet, with your help--together , we people of unclean lips can lift our eyes...and our hopes...and our hearts...and our priceless, eternal souls higher...for we have seen the King, you and I.

We are children of God.

Knowing that, nothing is too much to ask.

God can use us, unclean lips and all.

"See, this has touched your lips; your iniquity is removed and your sin is wiped away."

"Then I heard the Lord saying: who shall I send, who will go for me?"

God calls us all. God needs us as God's people, a nation of priests.

God calls us all. My prayer, my hope, my dream, is that with Isaiah we can answer:

"Here am I, send me.

Here am I, send ME."