Year A - Proper 17, September 3, 2023
50 Years
To honor the Magnificent Trinity: God, Messiah, and Advocate
It’s my birthday. Now, I’m not a birthday celebration kind of person, but this is a big one: half a century, fifty years. My siblings are having a field day with birthday greetings and my Dad surprised me by making the trip all the way from Kentucky. It’s an important moment to take a look back and to consider your legacy.
The readings today fit my day eerily well.
This episode in the story of Moses brings back my own burning bush moment. I was 8 and lived on the last street in the Dhahran ARAMCO camp in Saudi Arabia. Just past our block the desert stretched out and there was a sort of mini-canyon called a jebel nearby. A family of foxes lived in its tiny alcoves and the kits would come out to play at dusk.
Walking into the desert by myself at dusk to watch kits play seemed like a lovely idea. I didn’t notice the blurry sky warned a shamal sandstorm was on its way. The wind got louder, then it got stronger and hotter the blowing sand began to pelt me. I scrambled behind a massive stone on the top edge of the jebel for shelter. Dusk turned into night. I was afraid and I prayed.
Now a sandstorm has a constant rumble sound like a herd of big cattle moving fast: the sound is far away, then closer, then right on top of you, then farther and farther off until it’s still. It fades.
That night, the rumbling didn’t fade it was suddenly silent and the sand just stopped. I popped up and leapt on top of the rock facing emptiness. It was black, there were no lights or stars or reflections from the moon. A strong, warm wind hit my body blowing off the sand and dust but did not knock me over. There I knew God.
Like the moment a woman’s body tells her she’s pregnant, or a group of people singing becomes a choir in harmony, I didn’t learn something, I discovered I knew truth: God is.
I was full of wonder and awe. Moses’ encounter with God at the burning bush had to be feel similar, though on a bigger scale. I believe that because the name of God given to Moses is the best description of that divine presence: I AM THAT I AM. God is, our belief is immaterial.
That moment 42 years ago has defined my life. People often play down their burning bush moment attributing overpowering wonder to immature emotion or a muddled mind. Trust your soul, folks. Those visceral flashes of knowing God’s being helps our holy call.
Moses tried to abandon his mission many times over. Jesus was tempted by Peter to abandon his work for God and avoid suffering. Peter certainly backed away from his mission, but for each of them, it is there bone deep experience of God that stirs their courage.
The next defining moment of my journey into this pulpit was Earth Day in my Senior year of high school, my all girls Roman Catholic high school run by an order of feisty nuns who were a constant thorn of conscience in the side of our bishop. We girls did everything at mass except consecrate the elements.
This Earth Day, I gave the sermon. Afterward our principal, Sister Phyllis, complimented my preaching and noted I was of great value to our worship. The rest of the conversation went like this:
Me: Well, Sister, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I think I may be called to be a nun.
Sister Phyllis: [huge laugh] Oh Vanessa, you would make a terrible nun, I don’t know a Mother Superior who would take you. But you would make an excellent priest.
Me: [shocked silence]
Sister: And if anyone can take on Rome, it’s you.
That conversation settled a spark in me that clearly led to this day, with a detour out of the Roman tradition. Placing that invitation to serve on top of my burning bush moment opened a yearning in me that still pulls me forward.
The rest of my story you have seen: I met my husband, we joined the Episcopal Church, parish after parish has continued to shape me as a priest, I’ve raised to proudly Episcopalian children, and you invited me into this pulpit.
Fifty years haven’t been a straight line, I’m more like Moses than Peter, wandering in the wilderness for most of my journey, but today I look toward the fulfillment of God’s covenant, of Christ’s call. You are my legacy, I hope. To nurture in you the same courage and calling God and the Church have nurtured in me.
Every Christian has a call to take up the cross and follow Jesus. It yours, uniquely, and it doesn’t require 42 years of chasing God into service to the Church. Taking up the mission of Christ is to declare God’s goodness in a broken world. Your cross is to live every day choosing love and grace over fear and hate. Now, I get to wrap in the reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans: here is your instruction manual. These 12 verses with a desire for Christ and trust that you know God are all you need to fulfill your call every day.
Let’s all stand, pick up your bulletin and read them together, like a pledge.
Dean Vanessa Clark+