What happened when they saw?

Isaiah 6:1-8; Luke 5:1-11
by the Rev. Dr. E. Scott Jones
Cathedral of Hope — Oklahoma City
7 February 2010

“Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence” is one of the oldest hymns we sing. It dates from the fourth century when it was composed as part of the Divine Liturgy of Saint James which is used primarily by the Syriac and Indian Orthodox Churches. That knowledge always excites me a little. To know that Christians have been singing this hymn for seventeen centuries, and mostly Asian Christians.

The hymn was likely composed in Greek in the city of Jerusalem. Tradition held that it was written by James, the brother of Jesus, but scholars think it more likely comes from four centuries later. In the Divine Liturgy it is known as “The Prayer of the Cherubic Hymn.”

In the 19th century there was a movement in England to return the church and its worship to some of the ancient sources. In 1864 the Anglican priest Gerard Moultrie translated this hymn from Greek into the English text we are familiar with. In 1906 the composer Ralph Vaughn Williams paired the words with this tune Picarday, which is a French folk song. That too I find interesting. A fourth century Greek hymn, sung historically by Syrians and Indians, becomes an Episcopal hymn set to a French folk song.

In the Divine Liturgy the hymn is sung as the Eucharistic elements are brought forward for the time of communion. The hymn conveys a sense of majesty, awe, and wonder. Maybe even the sublime. Yet it moves from the heavenly throne room into ordinary earthly things – a teenage girl’s womb, the body of an infant, blood, the bread and wine of the Eucharist.

The hymn invites us into divine power and glory, by reminding us of the incarnation. That God became one of us. That God can appear in ordinary things like the food we eat. That we too are the presence of God.

Right now America is delighting in wonder. The film Avatar is breaking records and continuing after many weeks to be the most watched film in America as people return to see it again and again. I really do hope you have seen it. Even those of you who aren’t science fiction fans – you know who I’m talking to. But if you do see it, it must be in 3-D and I really recommend paying the extra money to see it at the IMAX theatre up at Quail Springs.

It’s not that the plot, writing, or acting are any great breakthrough. In fact, I’ve read some really funny critical reviews that have torn the story to shreds while still admiring the film itself. What is captivating people is the actual experience of seeing the film.

One has to assume that in the early days of film, just going to see a motion picture was itself an overwhelming experience. Then think about those breakthrough sorts of moments – when Al Jolson starts singing in The Jazz Singer, when Dorothy steps through the door into the glorious Technicolor of Oz, when that first computer-generated-image of the water tentacle wove its way through the underwater station in The Abyss. Avatar is one of those cultural and artistic milestones where we are invited to see and to experience in a wholly new and transformed way. I didn’t feel like I’d gone to see a movie; it felt likely something completely different to me.

Director James Cameron invites you into a fully-imagined world of great splendor and beauty. And through the 3-dimensional film-making, he brings a depth, nuance, and texture to what we have always experienced as flat and “out there.” Much has been written about how this is not the usual 3-D kitsch with objects and creatures flying at you. Rather, he uses 3-D to bring depth, which draws you into the world he has created. One of the moments that delighted me the most was when I almost swatted at the fly that I thought was buzzing around me, only to realize that it part of the scene as the characters, and it seemed even we the audience, walked through the forest.

Avatar is such a success, I believe, because it does invite us to see and experience in a new way and that experience is itself one of sublime beauty.

In both our scripture readings tonight surprising things happen, as Isaiah and Peter see first hand the power and the glory of God. In that experience they are changed. God calls them to follow and commissions them with a ministry.

Isaiah seems to have been attending a worship service in the temple. Some have speculated it might have been the coronation of the new king. Whatever it was, he is suddenly seeing beyond the activity physically in front of him to the mystical, divine images that transcend the physical. Annie Dillard warns that “when we go to church we should wear crash helmets, receive life preservers, and be lashed to the pews in case God shows up.”

Peter’s experience is different. He’s out fishing. That is his occupation, and it is difficult work. Necessary work if he is to survive and provide for his family. And it had not been a good day at work; he had caught nothing. Yet, in the midst of his work, he is suddenly overwhelmed by the abundance of God.

It reminds me of Brother Lawrence. Of all the great spiritual teachers in the history of the Church, he is one of my favourites. Brother Lawrence was not a teacher or theologian. He was not a great preacher or composer. He was not a leader or administrator. Brother Lawrence was the cook. He worked every day in his garden and in his kitchen to prepare meals for the monks of monastery to which he belonged. Sometime he did find time to write some letters and in those he wrote about practicing the presence of God. That one didn’t need a worship service or a quiet prayer time, even though those are important, one could develop the habit of experiencing God’s presence even in the mundane activities of one’s job.

And it is part of what communion is supposed to remind us of each week. The power and glory of God can inhabit bread and grape juice. It can also inhabit each of us. Like Isaiah and Peter we might protest that we are too weak, too imperfect. But God knows better. The divine Spirit can fill us, and we are capable of great and mighty things.

We are the presence of God. We are ordinary things, filled with the majesty, the power, the glory of the divine. This worship. The communion we are about to celebrate. Our daily spiritual practices. The things of beauty that surround us. They remind us to see this way.

Once having seen, we are invited, now, to do great things. That’s the real point of these stories. The point of Isaiah’s vision is not the sublime image of God’s throne room, but Isaiah’s commission to be a prophet to the people during a time of trouble. The point of Luke’s story is not the great haul of fish, but that these followers of Jesus are given a task to tell other people the good news and, thereby, to transform their lives as well.

It is not enough that we have had a new experience that has transformed us, we must now share that with others so that they too might be transformed.

The story in Luke is quite poignant and fitting for our corporate life right now. The fishermen have been casting out their nets hoping for a catch and nothing. They are tired and worn out and ready to call it a day. Go out to the deeper water, Jesus says. Go someplace you haven’t gone. Try something new. Take a risk. Be different. Try again.

Do you need to trust God and take a risk you haven’t taken? Step out in faith in your work, in your church, in your relationship? Luke is saying, “trust God and go out into the deeper water.”

I am excited this week. We are taking a risk. It is never an easy thing for a church to move. We are comfortable here. We know where the spatulas are, how to turn on the microphones, the quirks of the heat and air system. We have had powerful and emotional moments here. For some of us our spiritual journey is deeply rooted in this place that we have felt it is our place.

And we have decided to risk all that and try something new. We have good reasons for making the move. And we are aware that there will be some initial discomfort. We have to figure out a lot of things over the next couple of months. Tweak some aspects of our worship. Learn our way around a new kitchen. Figure out how the doors will be locked and unlocked. Some day we’ll have to bring some trucks and cars and load up all our stuff here and carry it over to our new storage closet at Mayflower. There will be a service to celebrate our time and relationships here. And to celebrate our beginning something new.

The main reason for the decision is that we believe we will be able to more faithfully fulfill our calling in that place. It will afford us some new opportunities. And will free up some funds that we can use in other ways.

But we also understand that this decision, as exciting and filled with faith as it is, is not the only one. We are investing in a future even beyond Mayflower. Dreaming of what will happen next. We are exploring our vision and mission, restructuring our ministries, thinking of how to reinvigorate some things we’ve been doing, and coming up with new ideas.

No matter what decisions we make through the council and officers and task forces of this church, our life as a congregation rests on what each and every one of us as members is willing to do. Are we going out into the deeper water, throwing our nets wide, taking the risks?
• In our daily spiritual practices – our prayer, meditation, bible study, hospitality, care, and service to others?
• With our personal finances, learning to live more simply and justly, in solidarity with the poor and the oppressed, giving generously and at times sacrificially to others, and, if this church is something we are passionate about, giving our tithe and beyond?
• Are we sharing about our faith and spirituality with others and inviting them to journey along with us? Do they sense the power and the glory and the joy of God in us such that some deep desire in them wants to have the same experiences we are?
• Are we working for a more just and peaceful world? Not just being charitable, but living transformative lives bringing change to those around us?

It is not enough that we have ourselves had the experience of God. Not enough that we’ve seen the King, the Lord of hosts. That we have had our nets filled with abundance. That we have encountered God in the bread and wine. That we have seen something, experienced something which has transformed us.

We are only faithful to that experience when we become a prophet to the people, become fishers of others. When we do the things that will transform other peoples lives.

We can do all those things, because God commissions and empowers us to do them.

God is calling, let us respond, “Here am I, send me.”

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