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Sermon Preacher at the Church of the Good Shepherd, Granite Springs by the the Reverend Matthew Mead
October 25, 2009
The 21st Sunday after Pentecost
RCL): Jeremiah 31:7-9; Psalm 126; Hebrews 7:23-28; Mark 10:46-52


Before coming to Good Shepherd I worked at the Church of Saint Mary the Virgin in Times Square. Saint Mary’s is in a unique location. And being a priest there presented somewhat unique challenges. One of the responsibilities of the clergy was to make sure the church wasn’t being robbed or vandalized when the burglar alarm went off. The alarm, which was controlled by a motion sensor, went off all the time. If the wind blew hard on the doors it would go off. If one of the resident rats got too fat it would set the alarm off going on a midnight stroll through the sanctuary. And every now and then a person would set the alarm off: Usually it was a nun walking through the building for some unknown reason in the middle of the night or the sextons opening the church in the morning and forgetting to turn the alarm off or someone wandering into the church through doors mistakenly left unlocked.

When the alarm went off I would walk downstairs, half asleep, wearing flip flops, a white T –shirt, and pajama pants. I used to carry a baseball bat. But one day it occurred to me that someone actually robbing a church would probably be better armed than I was. So I carried only my keys.

This past year at about 1 AM on January 2nd the burglar alarm at the church went off. 99% of the time it was nothing, so you can imagine my surprise when I walked into the church and saw a man standing in the middle of the sanctuary up by the altar. All I could think was: “Uh, oh, I wish I had brought my bat.” I turned all the lights on and in my bravest voice I said: “Why are you are in here! What do you want?!”

The man turned and looked at me for a second and then said: “I fell asleep. We were out all night and I figured it looked like a nice place to sit down and rest. But I fell asleep on the floor. Can you let me out?”

“Yes. I can let you out; I have the keys. Come with me. ”

“Thanks so much,” he said. “Have a good night. Happy new year!”

“Happy New Year.” I said, as he disappeared into the night.

You never know what someone wants until you ask. I believe that is one of the points of today’s Gospel. A man is crying out to Jesus - who knows what his disciples think he wants? - but I think its safe to say they assume he’s up to no good. Saint Mark says plainly: “Many ordered him to be quiet”, but he persisted until at last Jesus asked him a simple question: “What do you want me to do for you?” I don’t know if the answer surprised Jesus, but it probably surprised the people who had been telling him to be quiet: “My teacher, let me see again.” And Jesus was able to give the man exactly what he wanted.

Maybe I am wrong, but I think a lot of people try to go through life avoiding difficult situations: I know I do. In Manhattan when someone was in the hospital a visit meant taking a subway and walking through the city streets in black clericals and a collar. I would say every other trip outside the church brought about an encounter I would have preferred to avoid. A snide remark about clergy or an impossible question from a person who I would have preferred stay silent. But sometimes what came out of the person’s mouth was entirely unexpected.

I was once in the South Bronx on a visit and a homeless man called out to me: “Father, get over here!” What did he want? “Can you give me a blessing father?” “Yes I can”. The presence of the Holy Spirit was obvious and entirely unexpected.

I know that very few of you will every live above a church in Times Square or wear black clericals and a collar, but I don’t think my experience as a Christian in the world is any different from yours. Probably sooner than we want, every single one of us will be in a position where we are forced to ask “What do you want?” Don’t be afraid to ask that question. The answer to that question and your ability to respond and help may surprise you. It certainly surprised me when I asked it at the beginning of the year – I assumed the man was going to say: “Your money and all the money in the church.” I was mistaken. He wanted simply to go home. It surprised me when I met the homeless man in the South Bronx. He just wanted a blessing. In both cases, I was astounded to have encountered the presence of the Lord and I felt like a fool for being afraid to speak up in the first place.

Probably sooner than we want, every single one of us will be in a position where we are forced to ask “What do you want?” Don’t be afraid to ask that question. The answer to that question may surprise you and the presence of God in that moment may astound you. The opening words at Morning Prayer every day is “Lord, open our lips.” I think that is a prayer all of us can pray every day – not just in the morning, but in each and every encounter we have with others in the world. It may be that by opening our lips the Word of God is made known to us and to those around us.

Note for all sermons: The text published here and what was actually preached from the pulpit may vary considerably. Think of this version as the published draft.