[Propertalk] Proper 11 a 2017 - part 1

[Robert P Morrison]

Friends,
Along the road with Jacob. During Pentecost sometimes I seem to
concentrate on the stories we don't always hear discussed.
Anyway, I have the regular liturgy on Sunday morning and a wedding in
the afternoon. The wedding is outdoors, twenty miles north. I have a
homily drafted for that too. Here's part 1 of the Sunday homily.
Happy weekend!
Love, 
Robert

	THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY    THE SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER
PENTECOST

	GENESIS 28:10-19a     PROPER 11 a

	ROMANS 8:12-25       23rd JULY, 2017

	MATTHEW 13:24-30, 36-43   CANTICLE: “A SONG OF GOD’S STRENGTH IN
MERCY”      (WISDOM 12:13, 16-19)

	 “Almighty God, the fountain of all wisdom, you know our
necessities before we ask and our ignorance in asking: Have compassion
on our weakness, and mercifully give us those things which for our
unworthiness we dare not, and for our blindness we cannot ask; through
the worthiness of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns
with you and the Holy Spirit, now and for ever. Amen.” 1

	 Today’s Collect: It’s an old problem, one that can make things
difficult, one that can make people doubt God’s existence, or at
least the existence of a God who has any sort of an interest in us.
Even those who have faith can find themselves tested severely. They
can show up in worship situations week after week; they pray; they
read the Bible; they share with people. Yet, somehow, they feel
they’re still missing something.

	 Don’t get me wrong, I’m not criticizing. In fact, these
situations may be the best places where faith-work is done.

	 I know that I’ve been in that situation more than once. I’m sure
that most of you have also. It’s so hard to figure things out,
sometimes. It’s so hard to know whether, indeed, we’re on the
right path. Part of it may be because there’s so much noise around
us. Whether it’s at home, or in this worship space, or practically
anywhere else, the noise of traffic is constant. It’s so
distracting, even disturbing. And it’s not simply vehicular traffic.


	 Or we go into a store, or a restaurant, an office, even a funeral
home, and there’s music playing. Background music, I grant you, but
still music, constantly sounding out. And then there are folk who feel
uncomfortable taking a walk outside unless they have something stuck
in their ears, something conveying words or music, filling the space
between their ears as if a vacuum is to be abhorred.

	 I know I’m as guilty as the next person, wanting to listen to
music so much of the time. And it’s NOT really that bad. Music can
uplift, it can bring back memories, it can soothe, it can calm people
and help them to focus on the task at hand. It has been proven to
stimulate the brain in a positive way, and it’s recognized as being
beneficial for the development of infants’ sensory systems.

	 Yet music, or any other noise, CAN be used as a means to escape from
dealing with, from wrestling with, things that are bothering us, or
are necessary to our health. 

	 Sometimes we look for something to excuse us from confronting
what’s in our minds. Sometimes, we can become oblivious to what’s
around us, and what we may actually find to be helpful for our
spiritual and emotional growth. At the very least, there are times
when we have to silence ourselves so that we can listen – listen to
our own hearts and minds, and how we interact with others; listen for
a sound that tells us that, in sacred mysteries, although we can never
know the mind of God fully, we can discover glimpses in sound and
light which help us find the path that’s best for us and focus on
our goals.

	 Jacob was on a journey. He’d so much on his mind. He was still a
bit of a brat, and Isaac, his father, was still pulling the strings. I
doubt if either were really intentional about doing a whole lot of
listening to God, at least as much as they should have. Isaac was
controlling whom his sons would marry. Granted, that wasn’t that
uncommon in those days. Although they lived in a land where there were
many different tribes, with interaction among them; and although Esau
had taken two wives from among those tribes, Isaac insisted that his
sons and heirs marry women from their own ancestral lines.

	Was there suspicion about what was different? Was there fear that one
tribe, one village group, would dominate the other and that what was
unique to the blessing and inheritance Jacob had received as a
descendant of Abraham? Sometimes it takes so little to threaten
identity. What may have seemed relatively insignificant to us, may
have been important to Jacob. Fear, then, may have had a lot to do
with why Jacob was on this journey. He knew where he was supposed to
end up, even if he’d never been there. But what lay in between on
the journey, whom he might meet on that journey, and what difficulties
he might encounter – of this he hadn’t any idea. He set out, day
after day, making slow progress towards his promised reward.

	 Everything must have seemed strange. The sounds he heard would have
come from the countryside through which he walked – twigs snapping
in the heat; grass rustling in what breeze there may have been;
animals scurrying as quietly as they could from one area of shade to
the next. The landscapes, the wild animals, perhaps the occasional
traders and flock tenders – picture them, and mix into that a
recurring question about where the next oasis might be. And, remember,
Jacob was the one who’d spent his formative years in and around a
tent with his mother. He wasn’t the rough and ready outdoorsman that
Esau was. Frankly, it was a wonder that he’d survived thus far on
his journey.

	 What Jacob thought about as he walked, and stopped, and rested, and
walked again; what he thought about regarding what lay ahead, we
don’t know. What he thought about God, we don’t really know
either, but there was a degree of faith within him that made him
continue his journey.

	 This is like us. We may have an idea where we’re headed. For
instance, I flew from Scotland to New York, for study in New Jersey,
having seen nothing of what lay in front of me except photos of the
Statue of Liberty and, on the night before I flew out, an old black
and white movie in which I saw deserted, rather eerie streets in New
York City. But I kept on.


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