They came yesterday at dinner time and will leave tomorrow sometime.
It is great to have them--I love them so.
Bern is so good with Eleanor. I watched them in the back yard for a long time while Brigit ran wild around them!
I don't know about you, but time with children and grandchildren is precious to me. I should be with them now instead of writing this.
I think I'll do that.
September 5th will be our 53rd wedding anniversary!
I asked Bern what she'd like to do.
She said "go see Barbie."
I was hoping for a dinner at a seafood restaurants near us.
I was hoping for raw oysters and white wine.
Instead we'll go to a movie I really don't want to see though friends have told me it's really funny.
We'll see.
We'll see.
53 years is a long time.
And it has been wondrous--most of the time.
I love her so I'll go see a movie I don't want to see for her.
Who do you say that I am?
Today we find ourselves in the city of Caesarea Philippi.
Just a short aside about Caesarea Philippi because it is a fascinating place—it is north of the Sea of Galilee, near what is now the border between Israel and Lebanon. Prior to being named “Caesarea Philippi” by the Tetrarch of Galilee, Herod Philip (to honor Caesar Augustus and…oh, himself…) the city was known as Banias in Hebrew and “Paneas” in Greek. It was the site of a shrine to Pan, the god of mirth and drink and debauchery (God bless him!). But it didn’t stop there: there were shrines to Persian gods and Roman gods and to Caesar, who was worshipped as a god, and even shrines to the Pre-Greek gods of that region. Caesarea Philippi was a veritable panoply of worship and sacrifice. And besides all that, the water that flows through Banius from Mount Hermon is the headwaters of the River Jordan. So it was a terribly holy place for Jews as well.
So, in this remarkably holy, sacred place, Jesus asked his disciples: “Who do you say that I am?”
I want to go on record as saying that is one of the most audacious, outrageous, daring and vulnerable questions anyone can ask. Who in their right mind would ask it? What rational person would want to know the answer when it came?
Think about it for a moment—WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?
Is that something you really, truly, honestly want to know? From an acquaintance? From a close friend? Even from someone who loves you? Do you really, truly, honestly want to know “who they say you are?”
Let me talk about me for a moment….I’m not sure I want to risk the pain and disappointment and confusion that hearing “who someone else says I am” would cause me.
Two examples, if I might.
First of all, I’ve had any number of people who have come to know me and love me tell me that when they first met me they thought I was “arrogant”. That’s the word they’ve all used—arrogant.
WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM? I could have asked them when they didn’t know me well.
YOU ARE VERY ARROGANT, they would have answered.
Of all the things I think about myself—about WHO I AM—about the last thing would be “arrogant”. I’m always using so much energy trying to please people and make them like me and show them how honorable I am, that I would never imagine they’d think I was arrogant. I’ve spent hours and hours trying to understand why people would think that’s “who I am….”
And I would have been bereft, deeply pained, stung to the core.
It is a very risky question to ask: WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?
Who would want to know? Who would be confident enough to hear the response?
Secondly, I know myself better than anyone knows me. I know all my dark and secret places, all my aching places, all my shame and fear and brokenness. Why would I ask someone WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM? For fear of hearing the “truth” about what I know about me…..
My greatest fear is that someone will “figure me out” and know what a phony, what a fake, what a hypocrite, what a sham I am.
So why would I ever ask someone: WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a Christian murdered by the Nazi’s at the end of WW II. One of his books was Letters and Papers from Prison and contained this poem. Listen. Listen carefully….
WHO AM I?
Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a Squire from his country home.
Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my wardens
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though they were mine to command.
Who am I? they also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
Equally, smilingly, proudly,
Like one accustomed to win.
Am I really all that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were
Compressing my throat,
Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
Tossing in expectation of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?
Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others
And before myself a contemptable, woebegone weaking?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,
Fleeing in distain from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine.
I had a friend who was a priest in West Virginia with me for five years. He was a great guy, very funny. But he always ran himself down—about his problems and short-comings. We went our different ways—I went to CT and he went west. Then, a dozen or so years later, he was elected Bishop. I went to his consecration. Hearing what people said about him in the reception, when I talked with him I said, “don’t ever run yourself down again—I heard what those people said about Who You Are.
So, maybe who people say we are can challenge us to live into their words.
There were many opinions about ‘who Jesus was’, but Peter nailed it--“you are the Messiah!” Jesus told him, “You are the Rock (petros in Greek) on which I’ll build my church”. Then he told them to tell no one who he was.
There are many voices, both inside our heads and from those around us that have an opinion about who you and I are.
But Bonhoeffer nailed it—whoever we are, we belong to God.
We are God’s beloved children. And what we need to do with that is to live in the world as the hands and hearts and voices and actions of Jesus. We are to be Christ’s Body to this darkling world.
We have to. We just have to.
We must…. We must….We must.
Today seems strange since I didn't go to church to celebrate and preach.
I only do 3 Sundays a month--but when I'm off--it feels very, very strange.
Once someone asked me why I became a priest and in a moment of complete honesty, I said, "So I would go to church."
And it's true.
I never think of 'going to church' when I have a free Sunday.
But it feels odd not to be in church since I've been ordained for 40+ years.
I don't mind strange feelings--they're just 'strange'.
As I age, I tend to forget books I've read. Which means I can read them again and think they're new!
David Rosenfelt benefits most from this.
I'm almost sure I've read all his Andy Carpenter Mysteries.
But I keep checking them out of the library after reading the summery and they seem new to me.
Luckily, he's written lots of them, so I can read through them over and over.
I recommend David Rosenfelt with joy. And most of his novels have to do with court and dogs.
What could be better than that?
Michael on our face-time Tuesday with 5 others, reminded me of something I'd forgotten about.
Michael had been a Roman Catholic deacon who remarried after his wife died and the church did not approve.
He became an Episcopalian and then a deacon and then a priest.
He followed me as Rector of St. John's after I retired.
I mentioned fruit flies in our house and he told the story of my doing a Eucharist and waving above the chalice from time to time.
He asked me what my motions meant, thinking they were Episcopal ritual.
And I said, "fruit flies around the chalice."
I'm so glad for that memory.
Fruit flies are everywhere--one just flew past the screen and I was typing this....
There are several folks at Trinity that was to be confirmed or renew their baptismal vows down the road at the church in Litchfield.
So, on Wednesdays we're doing confirmation class.
I'm pretty laid back about it all but there are some things I want folks to know.
We walked through the Prayer Book for a couple of weeks--most people never look at anything but Morning Prayer and Holy Eucharist. That was enlightening to people.
We got half-way through the Catachism today--it is boring but people should read through it and know what's there.
We'll spend September doing other things since the service is October 8.
It amazed me that so many folks there are in advanced age and haven't been confirmed!
Who knew?
