I invite those who here in the Cathedral, as well as those who are with us in the many places online, to join me in a word of prayer.

Almighty God, we come grateful for the beautiful day you have set before us. Once again, we say thank you for your presence with us and your love towards us. And now, we ask that you would hold us, that you would draw us, that you would unite us. But it is our prayer that you would fill us for all of the places you have prepared for us. This we ask in your wonderful Name. Amen. You may be seated.

There is an old quote lifted by a New York politician made many years ago by the name of Bruce Barton, that in all of his quotes, there was one in particular that went this way: “Action, reaction; ebb and flow. Trial and error. Change is the rhythm of living. Out of our overconfidence, fear. And out of our fear, hopefully clearer vision. Fresh hope, but out of that fresh hope, progress.’

We have been given this opportunity once again to gather in this place, to get together online and here we are. I’m sure being able to hold to a piece of this, that all of us are here because we want change. We are here because of the ebbs and flows of life which have been moving rapidly and hurriedly all around us. But we want change. We are here because no matter where you stand, we’re probably saying we want to see the world look a little different than the way it looks right now. We want to see the relationships changed than the way they are right now. We are here because we want to make progress in some manner. We are here because, and truth be told, I think I’ve got good company here, there’s a little bit of hope in this place. Hope that we could be better, we can become better, we can do better. But here I am hoping that we might make progress and standing in this moment with you, I have to admit that preaching, and the preaching moment, is routinely an overwhelming task. I’ve often described it to associates, who have been around me and other preachers, described it as trying to cross the street at a crowded intersection while navigating the flow of traffic, often moving in competing directions, and even that traffic is moving at a different rate of speed. Yet you’re given the task to get to the other side.

Here we are once again on a Sunday morning, restlessly, anticipating, making progress, navigating challenges, crossing over, moving forward, making some sort of progress in our facing the ultimate concerns of life. Truth is, we might sometimes characterize those concerns in the headlines of the day. We might characterize those concerns in the grand and profound statements that get made, but underneath all that we have covered up, dressed up and brought into this place and joining with online, we are trying to make it through the ultimate concerns of life. The relationships we have with one another, the love we have for one another, the love of neighbor, the care of self, family, food on the table. And I wrestled this morning because in this familiar narrative that is lifted out of the gospel of Mark, it has consumed countless hours of time and attention throughout the centuries. I know it to be true because I have been confronted by it, challenged by it, inspired by it, hundreds of times over. I have heard it, I’ve read it, I’ve studied it, and here I am once again trying to preach from it.

As I approached it, I must admit that I sat with that restlessness to hopefully reach that place at its conclusion of an imagined personal peacefulness. But when I read it in this moment, imagining the current traffic that I’m trying to , as I read it, looking at the different rates of speeds, the headlines, all of the social context with which are weighing in on this moment, I realized that Mark was letting us listen in on the drama that unfolded and the conflict that resulted when James and John raised a request. You could read this and it could be read with calm, it could be read with ease. It could be read in a poetic manner, but if you look between the lines and look closely as we often invite you to do, this is a drama filled moment. A simple request: “Appoint us to sit one at your right hand and one at your left in your glory”. It sounds very simple, but their request unleashed an array of reactions and perceptions from those who heard it. The friends, the associates, the crowd that were with Jesus in that moment had to turn their heads to look and wonder what they were asking about, to make perceptions about place and prominence position and hear all that was taking place.

Out of the mouth of Jesus’s disciples, we hear a request that reveals a restless ambition that was resting in their spirit. This restlessness is not unique though to this passage. It’s not unique to any one person. It’s not unique to any generation. It’s not unique to any position, culture, or society. This restlessness is part of our human spirit to hopefully to imagine better, to see better, to chase after better, to want more. Oh, in its own understanding, to just move from where we are right now. The disciples hope for a brighter future. A transformed society and a beloved community though had been shaped, and even inspired, by their relationship with Jesus. But this request from the disciples revealed a hope that deviated from the message and ministry of Jesus.

It was a hope that imagined the ministry of Jesus providing authority, power, position, prominence, importance, and even to characterize it today, celebrity. That I could take a seat and everyone look at me, that I might be able to sit high while others are living low, that I might be able to be part of a special group while have them sit on the outside of the group. The picture, if you allow it to roll in your mind’s eye for just a moment, being painted by these disciples is of relationships that are imagined, with restless ambition being experienced. But they envisioned a human condition, not touched by divine relationship. So many of us are pursuing life without being touched by the divine relationship. This picture lacked a witness of divine intimacy. This restless ambition, this desire and purpose was missing the mark, and Jesus had to put the picture back into proper perspective.

I would have you recognize that history has revealed seasons where the message of Jesus has become misdirected. The message of Jesus has become cloudy and perhaps questionable. It is not just in a moment like this, and it is in a moment like this, where you can hear the talk about Jesus and wonder what it’s all about. You can hear the talk about what it means to be a follower of Jesus, what it means to be part of the Christian Nationalistic movement, what it means to be part of this group or that group and wonder and find the message questionable. When we get in moments like this, when it happens, the message that is being lifted somehow dims the light of hope instead of lifting up a brighter light of hope. When that message is cloudy, when that message is vague, when that message is misdirected, only certain groups of people are seen as special. Only certain persons are really appreciated. Only certain communities are valued and only certain ones loved in the way that God loves us.

Many years ago, an author in theology professor by the name of Dr. W. M. Robinson, wrote in a published work that we should always remember that he stated it this way, “That the blackouts of earth do not dim the lights of heaven because it is when the night becomes dark that the lights of the stars are seen even brighter.” Well, here we are today in a moment where many might say the light in our cultural existence and context is dimming, but I remind the believers who have brought your hope and faith today that that’s the time that we need to turn up the light. That’s the time that the light can shine its best. That’s the time for us to shift our perspective and sharpen our focus.

We have gathered so that we might not just live life with horizontal concern, but we’ve gathered so that we might live life with vertical relationship. And there’s something special that happens when the horizontal meets the vertical. There’s something that can be seen in the crossing of that that cannot be seen when one is separated from the other. There is something about having a divine relationship or a messianic intimacy. There is something special that we need in a moment like this. We are here so that others might see the light of Christ. We are here so that we might, when we walk out of here, be a faithful presence, a hopeful presence to those who we are meeting, those who are wondering about the future, who are taking the daily temperature of an ever shifting historic moment that we’re living in, who are trying to find hope in hopeless situations, who are lost in the chaotic confusion of the moment. We are here because we say we see the light.

There are moments when we’ve all felt overwhelmed by the posturing and the promoting of philosophical and sociological, political and even theological agendas that don’t capture the character, the integrity, and even the cause of Christ. Difficulties, I remind you, are not new to people of faith. Difficulties ought not be seen as strange to people of faith, because people of faith work best with difficult moments. People of faith know how to make bricks out of straw. People of faith know how to face fiery furnaces turned up seven times hotter than normal. People of faith know what it is to weep by the waters of Babylon, yet still sing a song of hope. People of faith know how to face giants and bring down giants with nothing more than a sling in a rock. People of faith know how to walk on water in the midst of a storm. People of faith know how to handle the most challenging of times and are often the instruments of faith.

John and James raised a question that was focused on sitting when Jesus tried to re-shift their focus and said it was not about sitting, it’s about service. I hope we haven’t come here today just to say we have taken a seat, but we’ve come here that we might be motivated to serve. The church is not a sitting gathering. It’s a serving gathering. Jesus addresses the drama, the posturing, the positioning, the restless ambition, by telling them whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant. Jesus has to hit the reset button because the Christian hope, I remind you, is not a series of vague premonitions, poetic fantasies, philosophical speculations, or even political promotions that are personally focused without being communally minded. Jesus had to hit the reset button so that they would recognize that we’ve come to serve, not be served, and any message that talks about serving self misses the mark because Christian hope is rooted in the gospel of Jesus Christ. I remind you today, there are moments we forget to declare that gospel, to share that gospel, to tell that gospel, because we do not appreciate the transformational power of that gospel. Well, I’m only here for a moment to remind you. There’s power in telling that gospel message. There’s power in bringing light to every moment through the gospel of Jesus Christ. There is transformational power and there’s real power in serving others.

Henry Van Dyck, noted author, many years ago wrote in a publication by the name of The Other Wise Man and said, “Religion without great hope would be like an altar without living fire”. Well, I know there’s some people in here that have come. You’re online today and you’ve got great hope. Well, we need some living fire to go with it. You’ve come in here hoping that we could be better, hoping that we will do better, hoping that we will serve better, hoping that the world will be better. Well, I remind you today, if there’s faith in this place, we can see living fire take hold in the darkest of moments. I hope today that that living fire will help us not just to reach out but will always keep us reaching up. That we might reach up and reach out at the same time because there’s something about hope in Jesus Christ. I always remind you that I grew up hearing, and there’s no better way to say it this morning because I can only speak for me, but I hope that I’ve got company:

‘My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name. (If there’s any doubt in this place) On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.”

Preacher

The Rev. Canon Leonard L. Hamlin, Sr.

Canon Missioner and Minister of Equity & Inclusion