Two weeks ago I asked two questions of importance: 1) What do you do when God calls your name? and 2) How do you respond? Canon Picken reminded you last Sunday that I was going to return to the topic – and here we are again! While he and I didn’t plan on preaching a series of sermons on a common theme, that’s sometimes how the Spirit works.
For the past three Sundays our scripture readings have centered on various encounters with God and Jesus calling out to, reaching out towards, or summoning others. There was the boy Samuel, serving in the temple with the aged Eli, a boy summoned in the night by a voice he did not know. The voice was the voice of God.
There was the guileless Nathaniel, sitting under a fig tree, a hard-nosed skeptic if there ever was one, who was converted on the spot when Jesus called him by name and told him about his past.
There was the stubborn and proud Jonah, who consciously turned away from God’s call, ran in the opposite direction and, as a result, found himself in a whale of trouble. And even when he did agree to do what God wanted him to do, convince the evil Ninevites to repent and spare their lives, even when Jonah was successful in his mission, instead of rejoicing he sulked and complained that God didn’t keep his word.
Then there was Jesus who encountered Simon and Andrew engaged in the family fishing business. He called the two brothers and they responded to his call, immediately abandoning their father and the hired help at the busiest time of the day.
Notice that everyone had a different response. Samuel was too young and inexperienced to know God’s voice. Fortunately he had Eli to guide him. Nathaniel initially thought Jesus was a charlatan, but immediately – and enthusiastically – changed his mind when presented with proof. Jonah did almost everything he could to thwart God’s call to him, including, in the end, thinking more of himself than he did of the souls spared by God. And Simon and Andrew didn’t seem to reflect on anything: they just walked away from their responsibilities and their livelihoods to follow Jesus. Truth be told, they are not exactly the type of business partners I’d want in my future.
There is no common theme. Everyone responded differently, it seems. And several weeks ago I commented that the big dilemma for many modern Christians is this, another set of questions. Will many people even hear when God calls them from the din of modern society and the distractions of wealth, prestige, and power?
What often passes for faith in Christ is often little more than a walk in the park on a sunny day when all is well. When we are not challenged by life’s difficulties – poor health, unfulfilled ambition, unfaithful relationships, or the loss of jobs, family members, and friends, then it is fairly easy for most of us to believe. But when the distractions of the world begin to take over our existences, belief becomes more of a challenge.
This behavior on his part mystified his hearers almost beyond imagination. Who is this man, they wonder and not just to themselves but aloud to one another. Who is this man who speaks so convincingly and who defies tradition? They do not know.
But: surprise, surprise! The man possessed by demons knows who Jesus is. “The unclean spirit seems better informed about Jesus than anyone else is, but Jesus shushes it and insists that it vacate the premises.” 1 It hisses in anger, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.”
Isn’t it ironic that the evil spirits – or spirits – recognize Jesus when the conventionally religious men in the synagogue do not?
What do you do when God calls your name? How do you respond? How do you respond in these circumstances, which are not exactly the typical call to service or to mission? The possessed man knew exactly who Jesus was, and he knew what Jesus was going to do – cast out the spirit. Sometimes God’s call to us, to others, is disturbing and not reassuring. Sometimes that call challenges us to change, to grow, to give up something that we’d rather not give up. Sometimes that call challenges us to be something or someone we’d rather not be, forces us out of our comfort zone.
Here’s a little secret about the call to Holy Orders, to the ordained ministry, which is only one of many types of calls issued by God, but which is a bit disturbing to me. After almost forty years of ordained life, I’m convinced that one of the greatest pitfalls of wearing a clerical collar is that your own identity can get too tied up in titles and deference. If we’re not careful, the emphasis shifts from doing God’s to having it become “all about us.”
To help keep this problem in perspective, Paul Coelho tells this story:
Many years ago there lived a man who was capable of loving and forgiving everyone he came across. Because of this, God sent an angel to talk to him.
“God asked me to come and visit you and tell you that he wishes to reward you for your goodness,” said the angel. “You may have any gift you wish for. Would you like the gift of healing?”
“Certainly not,” said the man. “I would prefer God to choose those who should be healed.”
“And what about leading sinners back to the path of Truth?”
“That’s a job for angels like you. I don’t want to be venerated by anyone or to serve as a permanent example.”
“Look, I can’t go back to Heaven without having given you a miracle. If you don’t choose, I’ll have to choose one for you,” the angel explained.
The man thought for a moment and then said, “All right, I would like good to be done through me, but without anybody noticing, not even me, in case I should commit the sin of vanity.”
So the angel arranged for the man’s shadow to have the power of healing, but only when the sun was shining on the man’s face. In this way, wherever he went, the sick were healed, the earth grew fertile again, and sad people rediscovered happiness.
The man traveled the Earth for many years, oblivious of the miracles he was working because when he was facing the sun, his shadow was always behind him. In this way, he was able to live and die unaware of his own holiness. 2
When God calls your name, when God calls my name, wouldn’t this be a wonderful response, “I would like good to be done through me, but without anybody noticing, not even me, in case I should commit the sin of vanity.”
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we were just holy as a result of God’s calling our names?
The Very Rev. Theodore W.Bean, Jr.
Dean of the Cathedral
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1 Patrick J. Wilson in The Christian Century (January 5, 1994).
2 Cited in Synthesis, January 29, 2012.
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