Epiphany 5 at Holy Cross Faith Memorial, Pawleys Island

Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany - Holy Cross Faith Memorial, Pawleys Island
Sunday, February 9, 2025

Good morning Holy Cross Faith Memorial. I’m so happy to be back with you; I’ve been missing you. Thank you for your ministry in this place. Thank you, Father Wil and to your whole team for all you do to be Jesus’ hands and feet. What a joy to be celebrating with your confirmands and your baptismal candidates. Clearly, good things are happening here.
 
Today, we have two scriptural passages about our call to serve the Lord. Fitting for a day chock full of baptisms and confirmations! And, too, a fitting subject for us, as we consider what it means to serve Jesus as Episcopalians in country now.
 
In the wake of King Uzziah’s death, Israel was in political turmoil. A change in administration threatened to upend all that King Uzziah had built over his lifetime. It was a time of great national unrest. A time not unlike our own. In that context, Isaiah is given a vision of God.
 
Yet, while a vision of God might sound like just the thing to quiet political unrest, this one fits into the “be careful what you pray for” category. 
 
It begins with seraphs. Now, we have beautiful hymns about the seraphim and the cherubim. But have you actually ever seen one of these creatures? Picture six wings—two covering their eyes—so they cannot see God; two covering their feet—you know—feet meant something different back then. And with the other two, they flew. Their name means fiery—so, you can only imagine the spectacle. Not very comforting, these celestial beings.
 
There they were—flying about the Lord seated on a throne. Since no one could look on the face of God and live, what Isaiah describes seeing is the hem of his robe, which filled the whole temple. It is a scene worthy of the Raiders of the Lost Ark, or perhaps, Stranger Things.
 
So, Isaiah has this vision, while he is dealing with all the political unrest.
 
And when Isaiah has the vision, a rare glimpse of the Almighty, what is his first response? Not, “I am blessed,” “I’m your favorite prophet,” or “I am special.” No, it was this: “Woe is me. For I am unworthy. I am a man of unclean lips.” In other words, I have no idea why you’re calling me. I’m not up to the task.
 
Similarly, in our gospel for today, when Simon Peter sees the gargantuan catch—something only God could produce, his response is not, “Wow, we are the favored ones—look at this mother lode!” No, to the contrary, Peter shows fear. He responds, like Isaiah, with a declaration of his own unworthiness. “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” I’m not up to the task.
 
 
In both cases, thankfully, this is not the end of the story. God persists, and Isaiah and Simon Peter both accept their call to bear the good news.
 
But their first response to God’s presence is fear.
 
The call of God on our lives should frighten us. Because it will require more from us than we can imagine.
 
Call always begins by our being thrown off center, brought to our knees in the face of a holy, mysterious reality that truly surpasses our understanding.
 
But then comes the moment to push through the fear to find our yes. And so, after his initial response, Isaiah accepts—not having any idea what this call would entail. “Here I am!” he says, “Send me!” Or, as Donkey in Shrek would say, “Me! Me! Pick Me!” So says arguably the greatest prophet of all times, not knowing exactly what the picking was for.
 
And eventually, Peter, too, accepts his call.
 
The parallels between Isaiah’s call and Peter’s call do not end here. In both cases, the call is to hard work. I mean really hard work. The end of our portion from Isaiah is one of those texts we kind of like to skip over. In it, God tells Isaiah he’s going to harden the hearts of those to whom he sends Isaiah. 
 
Right after Isaiah has signed up for the job, the Lord says—okay, here’s your mission:
Go and say to this people:
“Keep listening, but do not comprehend;
keep looking, but do not understand.'
Make the mind of this people dull,
and stop their ears,
and shut their eyes…”
That’s a rough assignment. That’s hard work.
 
Isaiah, probably wishing he’d kept his eager mouth shut asks, "How long, O Lord?" 
And Yahweh answers:
"Until cities lie waste
without inhabitant,
and houses without people,
and the land is utterly desolate…"
 
Yahweh sees that his message of mercy and justice is already falling on deaf ears. So, Isaiah gets the job of underscoring the obvious. He’s the one who will call them out for their sin. Not your most desirable prophet gig. 
 
 
Speaking truth to those whose ears are shut to you is hard work. 
 
Peter’s arc is similar. Once he has followed Jesus to the cross and been with him after his resurrection, he is forever changed. He understands that all are truly made one in Christ. And so, he meets with the Roman centurion Cornelius and proclaims the equality of Jews and Gentiles. He tells Cornelius that Gentiles need not become like Jews to be saved. Peter breaks down the walls that separated people in his day, despite those who wanted to keep the walls up. And for his faithfulness, he was crucified. Being a prophet to those who would separate us is hard work.
 
Isaiah and Peter have laid the foundation for you and me. We are living in sinful times. And we, like Isaiah, are called to preach a word that will fall on some deaf ears. Like Peter, we are called to break down walls that may get us in real trouble.
 
This past Sunday, our new Presiding Bishop was seated at the National Cathedral. He preached a sermon every one of us should hear. In it, he proclaimed, “In God’s kingdom, immigrants and refugees, transgender people, the poor and the marginalized are not at the edges, fearful and alone. They are at the center of the Gospel story.” He called us to stand for those who most need us right now and to practice love of those with whom we fiercely disagree. This is the gospel we proclaim. These are our Christian values. This is our work. And, yes, it can be hard.
 
Beloved, our call is clear. And it is not a partisan call; it is a Gospel call. It is to defend the widows and orphans, the poor and oppressed, the stranger who is no stranger but our neighbor, those whom the world has rejected, judged, despised. 

Right now, we must defend by our words and our actions, those who are actively being cast aside and oppressed in our land. Our transgender siblings, our immigrant neighbors, those who still must contend with the sin of racism on a daily basis, those who struggle to make ends meet whose safety net is being ripped away. These are in the center of our beloved community. And we must be with them now. And, all the while, we must love those who are our opponents, those who think and vote and believe differently. We must love them too, even as we oppose actions that are unjust and stand strong in gospel values. In short, we must respect the dignity of every human being. We must seek and serve Christ in them all.
 
The call of Jesus demands much of us, and will require even more in days ahead. This call is not easy. It should scare us. 
 
Still, we press on.
 
Though we may be afraid at first, like Isaiah, like Peter, we cannot let that stop us. Though the task may be hard, we cannot let that stop us. Though our words may fall on deaf ears, we cannot let that stop us. Though the walls seem insurmountable some days, we cannot let that stop us. We press on. We press on toward the goal. For Christ Jesus has need of us. And we are up to the task.
 
When Jesus asks his disciples if they want to leave him because the call is too hard, Peter answers him: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”  Press on, my friends. Press on. This is our call. To be his voice. His hands His feet. Yes, this is our call. And we are up to the task!
 
Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. Here we are. Send us.

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