Preached on the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 11A), July 23, 2023, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Seattle, Washington by The Reverend Stephen Crippen.
Genesis 28:10-19a
Psalm 139:1-11, 22-23
Romans 8:12-25
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
Wheat and Tares by Ed Morales
Sometimes people comment on spiritual topics such as the meaning of suffering, the problem of evil, and so on, and I am troubled by what they say. When someone says, “Everything happens for a reason,” I think to myself, “No, everything does not happen ‘for a reason.’ Horrible things happen, but they are not God’s will, or part of God’s great plan. We live in a phenomenal, serendipitous universe in which Almighty God enters from below as the Humble One. God is the uncontrolling Creator who calls to us from the future, inviting us, but not forcing us, to make good moral choices in this unpredictable, heartbreaking, wondrous ethical arena.”
That’s my full rebuttal to the claim that “Everything happens for a reason.” I stand by it, but I concede it’s pretty long-winded. I rarely say such things out loud because most people don’t want me to mansplain systematic theology, and I want to have friends. If I had to fit all of that on a mug or a t-shirt, I might just say, “Everything doesn’t happen for a reason, but God makes good use of everything.”
That’s still a lot to read on a mug or a t-shirt. Ideally we would forget about catchy theological one-liners and talk about these things in healthy conversation.
Other times, people say things that aren’t wrong in my view, but the other person’s experience doesn’t nicely match my own. Their experience of God and spiritual life is different from mine. This often happens when someone has a significant spiritual experience and says with confidence that God was involved in that moment. They experience something wondrous and say, “That was a God Shot!” A “God Shot”: this means that they had a palpable feeling that God was present, or God was working or moving in their lives, usually giving the gift of insight or revelation. This is good! But … though I am a person of deep, authentic faith, and though I believe strongly that the Spirit is active and present in my life and in our life here in this community, I don’t enjoy all that many “God Shots.” Maybe I’m just a little envious.
I confess I would like to have a clear and satisfying God Shot. I would love to stand up, look around, and say something like, “Surely the LORD is in this place – and I did not know it!” And then, as feelings of fear and awe overwhelm me, I would say, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” Then I would set up a large rock on its end, cover it with fragrant oil, and I would name this place “Bet-El,” which means the “House of God.”
Our forebear Jacob can give us pointers about having our own God Shots. He enjoyed – but also suffered – a thrilling God Shot, dreaming of a massive ramp that joined heaven and earth, with God’s messengers moving up and down the ramp. (By the way, we often translate the word for ‘ramp’ as ‘ladder,’ but there is a different Hebrew word for ‘ladder,’ and a different word for ‘ramp’, too: this detail in Jacob’s dream is mystifying, and we will never know exactly what this structure was. But that’s how dreams go, right?)
Anyway, as Jacob is dreaming of this awesome vision, God then stands beside him. But another translation says that God is “poised over” Jacob, and yet another says that God is “set against” Jacob, even as God gives Jacob a massive blessing. This is the LORD God we’re talking about, so even when good news is being announced, it is fearsome and even traumatic to encounter God. Remember how terrified the disciples were when the risen Jesus came through their locked door?
And that’s it; that’s the dream; that’s the God Shot. Jacob sees heaven and earth joined by God’s messengers, and then he encounters God in an awesome, overwhelming theophany. But if we go back in the story a bit, we notice other details that help us interpret Jacob’s experience. They could even help us discern our own God Shots, which of course we can’t force into existence – we are not God! – but which may be happening, whether we’re aware of them or not.
First, Jacob was on the run from his brother. He had conspired with his mother to steal his father Isaac’s blessing, which was supposed to go to Jacob’s twin brother Esau, who was a few minutes older than Jacob. This is a complicated, troubling story in which Jacob and his mother appear at first glance to be, well, terrible people, certainly from Esau’s perspective. (And Jacob arguably did have a whole lot to learn, at this point in his life, about personal integrity.) But in my reading, God is calling to this family from the future, and they are learning that God’s agenda is more important than traditional family customs and practices. For me, it’s about the fact that God matters more than birth order, more than the bonds of family, more than all the things we humans think should rule or guide our lives. In any case, both Jacob and his mother Rebekah find themselves mired in controversy as faithful and clever followers of God.
Second, just before his God Shot, Jacob, mired in controversy for God’s sake, chose a place to rest. He saw that the sun was setting, and he made camp somewhere. We are meant to notice that the location was unremarkable, like spending the night at a Motel 6 by the freeway. If we want to experience a powerful encounter with God (or notice one in progress!), we need not make an elaborate pilgrimage to a holy site. Any room in your house will do. The troubled parking strip along the St. Paul’s property – that would do. Metropolitan Market? Sure.
Third, Jacob rested his head on or against a large stone. This seems tortuously uncomfortable, and so one translator says the stone wasn’t a pillow as much as a protective barrier, a rudimentary but serviceable hiding place. (Remember, Jacob is on the run from his brother.) A rough, hard stone: in my reading, this could represent Jacob struggling with a problem. Think of beating your head against a hard wall, or a painful stone in your shoe: the stone is Jacob’s battle with Esau. And yet, this conflict is just one subplot in the grand story of Jacob, who will be renamed Israel, which means not the one who strives with his brother, but the one who “strives with God.”
So: be mired in controversy, but be on the good side of that controversy; then, find yourself anywhere, or nowhere special; and finally, rest your head on a rock, hang out on something rough or imperfect, lean against a tough little problem.
Hurrah! All of this reveals to me that I enjoyed a God Shot not all that long ago. It happened when I was working as a rector in urban ministry, engaging both my mind and my heart in a swirling vortex of opportunities and challenges as we work together to do God’s mission in this neighborhood. (“Be mired in good controversy:” check.) The place? Oh, nowhere special: the west door leading into the parish hall downstairs. That door currently has a damaged lock because somebody tried to break in several nights ago. It’s not flashy like our Roy Street entrance doors. It’s not the door to the altar area. It’s really just a side door to our basement. (“Find yourself anywhere”: check.) And finally, metaphorically speaking, I was leaning up against an unhoused neighbor and his problems. (“Rest your head on a rock”: check.)
Here’s what happened. This was the God Shot: I was helping an unhoused neighbor leave our building. He was my guest – he had been here at my invitation. But it was time for him to go, so that I could return to the upstairs office and move on with my day. He turned to leave, and all at once I was overwhelmed with wrenching compassion for all that he was enduring in that moment, on that day, in this difficult year of his life. I was shaken and even tearful for the rest of that workday, and I still reflect quite often on that moment. The heavenly ramp was there: God’s messengers moving up and down, heaven and earth trading places, all the forces of the universe meeting at this humble little door to our basement. I saw how this friend and I were bonded as God’s children, forever. I saw how agonizingly vulnerable he was, and how infuriatingly powerless I was. And God was standing next to us; poised over us; set against us.
Jesus tells us in a parable today that the wheat and the weeds grow up together, and that God sorts everything out at the end. Well this friend of mine is wheat and weed, both: a complicated person, but God’s beloved. And that goes for me, too. In my God Shot, I saw my weak resentments alongside my good, strong heart, my petty thoughts alongside my skillful mind. It all came together, right by that door.
Controversy and difficulty alongside somebody else, in an ordinary place: that’s the recipe for a powerful spiritual encounter. Controversy and difficulty alongside somebody else, in an ordinary place. I think we will find, if we only look, that this ordinary place, St. Paul’s — Bet-El — this place is filled with the awesome presence and power of the Living God, and we did not know it.