St. Paul’s On-the-Hill Episcopal Church

The Rev. Stephen C. Holton, Rector

Lent 3; March 15, 2009

Exodus 10:1-17

John 2:13-22

 

CLEARED FOR SAILING

With God’s Wind at our Backs

 

          In this difficult world in which we live today, it seems like the last thing we would want to do is to rob ourselves of comfort. It seems like the last thing we would want to do is to rob ourselves of coping mechanisms. It seems like the last thing we would want to do is to rob ourselves of the ways in which we get along with a difficult world.

          Yet, in Lent, that’s exactly what we do.

          We give up some of the creative comforts that make each day a little less painful, comforts that shield us from the ongoing harsh realities of our lives. What hurt is there in a little extra dessert? What hurt is there in a little more alcohol? What hurt is there in the small ways in which we wall ourselves off from our troubles for a while?

          Plenty of hurt. For we wall ourselves off from God as well. For God is operative in the world; always has been, always will be. God came into the world – first to Moses, then in Jesus. God has always been here; creating, loving, sustaining. If we wall ourselves off from the world, we wall ourselves off from Him – though meeting Him again involves meeting Him in the context of a painful reality.

          Still, He’s there; and with Him, perhaps we can do a lot for the world and for us. With us, perhaps He can do a lot for the world and for others.

          So in Lent we give God permission to come into our lives and cleanse us; so that with Him we can go out into the world again at Easter with the resurrected Christ as He rolls away the boulder from our tomb and His. We go forward again, revived, ready to make a difference.

          So we remove some of those things that keep Jesus out, those other coping mechanisms by which we try to make him unnecessary.

          Then He can come in – and clean and sanctify and hallow and bless our lives in earnest, far beyond our own abilities. With Him we become holy and useful to God.

          Jesus cleanses the Temple. Jesus cleanses our lives.

          He overturns the tables of the money changers. In this way the religious leadership used common folks’ religion to get rich. People had to sacrifice in the Temple. In order to do this they had to buy clean and sanctified animals. In order to do this they had to pay money.

          But the only money they had was Roman money, the coin of the realm. The Temple took only special money, holy money, coined just for Temple use. So buyers had to exchange Roman money for Temple money – and the authorities made a profit on the deal, perhaps forcing people to spend more than they could afford – when all they really wanted to do was come to the Temple to pray so they could be one with God, in communion with their Maker and Creator, their Lover and Sanctifier.

          The money changers and the authorities behind them had made God’s house, God’s holy house of prayer, into a market place.

          How have you cluttered up God’s holy house of prayer, the temple of your life and body, the place you meet God? God will not be gentle in cleaning it out. He wants – he yearns – to be with you, to love you, to give you insights and thoughts and His way of coping with the world, so much better than ours.

          He does not want us to make peace with the world, to dull our senses to its evils, to cope, to take refuge from it, to make deals with it. He wants us to change the world, to hallow it, to sanctify it, to make it a fit place for habitation by all its creatures! We are the leaders we have been waiting for, as some have said. To do that, we need to allow God into our lives to cleanse us of the bad and harmful habits we may have picked up.

          Lent is a way to do that, to make an important start.

          There is a story of William Penn, the early Quaker leader and founder of Pennsylvania. As a nobleman he was entitled to wear a sword and he was very proud of this sword – but worried that, as a Quaker, he might have to give it up. So he went one day to George Fox, the founder of Quakerism, and asked him if he could still carry his sword. “While thou can’st,” said George Fox.

          In other words, he would only be able to carry it for a little while. For in a while, George knew, William’s commitment to pacifism would grow so intense that William himself would want to put off his sword. William himself would grow unable to carry this beautiful instrument of death.

          “While thou can’st.” We begin by trying to cleanse ourselves. We do it in little bits. We put away small portions of our bad habits. After a while, we ourselves can’t tolerate our bad habits. We have been changed too much. We have allowed Christ too far into our lives and He has been busy!

          We ourselves want to finish the cleaning. We ourselves want to be fully inhabited by Him, fully used by Him, fully dedicated to His service; a temple fit for God.

          We want to be off and running in his service at Easter. Any amount of pain and difficulty and discomfort is worth it if we get there.

         

          There is a wonderful Anthem the Choir is singing at Communion. It is called: “I feel the winds of God today.” In it, we are a ship, sailing, with God’s winds filling our sails, blowing us o’er the ocean on his errands.

          Don’t you want to get moving? To do it, we have to clear the ships, clean them up, make them seaworthy, pitch useless baggage over the side.

          Eventually we have to let go the ropes from fore and aft that tether us to the shore, and get moving on the wavy seas that are our true home as we sail off with the winds of God in our sails.

         

“I feel the winds of God today; today my sail I lift,

Though heavy, oft with drenching spray, and torn with many a rift;

If hope but light the waters’ crest, and Christ my bark will use,

I’ll seek the seas at his behest, and brave another cruise.

 

It is the wind of God that dries my vain regretful tears,

Until with braver thoughts shall rise the purer, brighter years;

If cast on shores of selfish ease or pleasure I should be;

Lord, let me feel Thy freshening breeze, and I’ll put back to sea.

 

If ever I forget Thy love and how that love was shown,

Lift high the blood red flag above; it bears Thy Name alone.

Great Pilot of my onward way, Thou wilt not let me drift;

I feel the winds of God today, today my sail I lift.”

 

          We lift our sails to God. We mend them for these 6 weeks of Lent we have in port. We refit and clean up and clear up our lives. We nourish ourselves properly so as to be fit sailors on the journey.

          On the journey we love the rest of the crew – as the 10 commandments outline. This is a code for behavior whenever we live and wherever we go, whatever coastlands we see on our journey and whatever people we meet.

          We put nothing in God’s way – no idols of any kind, no market, no economy. We release the ropes that tie us to them. Who knows, perhaps someone has already done this for us and we rock nervously on the waves.

          Never mind. The best place in a storm is often out to sea and not being dashed on the rocks. Set sail. Feel the kind winds of God, sometimes blowing strong, sometimes soft.

          Rely on the rest of the crew. Spend that special Sabbath time with God. See the places you go together, the people you’ll meet, the lives you will save.

          What a journey with God. What a lot of good we can do with Him.