“IN THE YEAR THAT KING UZZIAH DIED”

Scripture Lesson: Isaiah 6: 1-8

Dr. Matthew S. Brown

June 11, 2006

Who do you think it was who made the decision that the appropriate way to signify the culmination of one’s academic achievement is to don an ill-fitting, funny looking, tasseled hat along with an ungainly, genuine acetate robe and swelter and sweat for two hours in an unairconditioned gym or sun-baked stadium, all for the privilege of walking across a stage to shake the hand of the one person (be she principal or dean) you have desperately sought to avoid for the past four years?

And yet, year after year about this time mommas are pulling out their Polaroids, Daddies are cursing their fickle, “cost a king’s ransom”, high-definition DVR Handycams, and Aunt Dot’s sharpening her elbows, ready to whack any palooka who dares obstruct her view of the stage.

As perspiration puddles under those high fashion mortar boards and the echoes of squealing babies and temperamental toddlers bounce around the crowd, the invited speaker commences to offer the commencement address, sensing that it is his or her responsibility to be funny, be brief, and be profound - sharing some keen insight that will propel these students into the world shaping futures their parents want for them.

When Jon Stewart, of the Daily Show fame, addressed the graduates of William and Mary College, he pondered, “What piece of wisdom can I impart to you about my journey that will somehow ease your transition from college back to your parents’ basement?”

He conjectured that it would be wise for him to confess something concerning the world they were about to face. He said, “Let’s talk about the real world for a moment. . . . This is I guess as good a time as any. I really don’t know how to put this, so I’ll be blunt. We broke it.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been following the news lately, but it just kinda got away from us. Somewhere between the gold rush of easy internet profits and an arrogant sense of endless empire, we heard kind of a pinging noise, and uh, then the... thing just died on us. So I apologize.

But here’s the good news. You fix this thing, you’re the next greatest generation.” (Commencement Address, William and Mary, 2004)

Nothing like a little encouragement to bolster your spirits as you prepare to establish your place in the world. Yet, Stewart definitely has a point. It would be foolish to deny the broken places plaguing this world at this time, “a broken and fearful world” is the way one of our confessions describes it.

From Haditha to Mogadishu to Canal Street to the avenue or street the latest local siren is screaming down, we can point to those many places where human weakness obscures any display of human virtue.

As this month’s graduates ponder their transitions to the campus, the workplace, or their parent’s basement, their minds are laden with issues involving roommates, apartment leases, relationships, utility deposits, newfound freedoms and career choices, but somewhere beneath the superficial concerns that sap far too much mental energy lie the fundamental questions of purpose and place in a “broken and fearful” world, fundamental questions that are readily put off until tomorrow, fundamental questions many of us manage to continually and creatively avoid.

Have you thought about it recently? What is your place in a broken and fearful world?

Interspersed throughout the canon of scripture are these passages we refer to as call stories, stories in which individuals are “called” to some particular purpose by the Lord: Noah, standing in what will soon be the bottom of the sea; Moses at the burning bush; Samuel sleeping in the temple; Mary at home in Nazareth; Paul on the Damascus road. The voice or word of the Lord calls forth these servants: “Noah build a boat... a big one”; “Moses, clear your calendar for the next forty years”; “Mary, O do I have a job for you.”

In today’s passage, Isaiah, son of Amoz, is called to the office of prophet, one who will bear God’s messages to God’s people. Isaiah has a vision and in that vision Isaiah is ushered to the fringe of the heavenly throne room. In addition to the fantastical winged creatures ascribing praises to God, Isaiah actually catches a glimpse of the hem of God’s robe.

And coming into the presence of something so glorious has a way of making one self-conscious of how unglorious you are, and so, understandably, we hear Isaiah lament, “Woe! is me. I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips; and I live among a people of unclean lips...”

If only, if only the horde of self-styled prophets, preachers, pundits, and public servants of this age would feel the compulsion to utter those words at the dawn of each new day. There is a crisis of confidence in the land today, I would dare to say. A crisis of over-confidence. Far too many voices are claiming divine commission, assuming God is on their side when they really ought to asking whether they are on God’s side.

One of the great paradoxes of life is that often, those who are most worthy for a task are those who assume they are unworthy. If you look at many of the call stories in scripture, you hear the protests of those called forth. Their humility is seen in their surprise and their assumption that there must be someone else more qualified for the task at hand. You see, contrary to the ways of the world, standing in the presence of God inspires not pride but humility. And so often, therefore, it is humility that characterizes those truly called.

With his unclean lips cleansed by the attendants of the Lord, Isaiah is called to the difficult task of sharing a hard message with a people who don’t want to hear it and certainly don’t think they deserve it.

It is not a calling that engenders popularity but it is a task that Isaiah carries out faithfully and honorably. Indeed the work of the Lord is not about being honored but being honorable. It is not about being successful. It is about being faithful. A Declaration of Faith phrases it well, “We believe Christ gives us and demands of us lives in pilgrimage toward God’s kingdom. Like Christ we may enjoy on our journey all that sustains life and makes it pleasant and beautiful. No more than Christ are we spared the darkness, ambiguity, and threat of life in the world... Our confidence and hope for ourselves and other people do not rest in the powers and achievements of this world, but in the coming and hidden presence of God’s kingdom.”

Likewise, Willa Cather wrote that happiness is “to be dissolved into something complete and great.” (Gomes, Strength for the Journey) In a similar vein, Peter Gomes writes, “Life worth living is life lived in service of that which is ultimately worthy and trustworthy...” (Gomes, Strength for the Journey)

As recent graduates ponder possibility and posit their potential, let us ask ourselves: To what purpose is God calling us in a broken and fearful world? Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it involves more than observation. When Jesus said, “Follow me,” I think it meant we were going somewhere.

The story of The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini’s award winning novel, begins with a phone call Amir, the main character, receives from Rahim Khan, an old family friend with whom he had not had contact in years. The phone call brought forth for Amir the dreadful memory of the frigid winter day in Kabul when as a boy, crouching in fear behind a crumbling wall, he had failed to stand up for Hassan, the one loyal friend who had always stood up for him. A combination of fear, self-loathing, prejudice, and pride had paralyzed him and left his friend to be beaten, brutalized and violated.

Amir’s failure to act on Hassan’s behalf and his subsequent efforts to undermine their relationship, haunted him daily long into his adulthood and the subsequent journey reveals the consequences of all our worst impulses.

The phone call from Rahim Khan brought forth the memory and the guilt all over again. Amir had no idea that Rahim Khan knew what had happened that day, but a comment he made at the end of the phone call indicated otherwise and provides the context for the novel. Rahim shared this thought with Amir: “There is a way to be good again.” (The Kite Runner, Hosseini)

I don’t know whether you harbor humiliating memories of your past sins of omission or commission. But it only takes a little bit of observation and a brief moment of honest self-reflection for us to realize that Isaiah’s confession is our truth. We, too, possess unclean lips in the midst of a people of unclean lips.

Did you read about the travesty that took place on Mount Everest last month? For all the political harping about which party represents the values we cherish, May on the mountain was a sad commentary on the state of values like compassion, sacrifice, and service. May is the month when mountain climbers scramble to make their way up the world’s tallest peak.

One who didn’t make it back this year was David Sharp, a 34-year old British schoolteacher. Above 26,000 feet, in an area called the Death Zone, one can quickly get into trouble because of the lack of oxygen. You get punch drunk, you get confused, you get in trouble. Columnist Rick Reilly (Sports Illustrated) reported that some 40 climbers passed the struggling Sharp on their way to the top, and only one party tried to help.

In their ego-maniacal mad dash to the top, in their quest to become the kings of cocktail party conversation, they’ll plunk down a hundred grand to have a Sherpa pull them to the top; they’ll line up like kids at a Disney World roller coaster, waiting for an hour to climb the ladders of the Second Step at 28,200 ft.; they’ll pull out their cameras for video shots of the top of the world; but, in this case, they forgot to be human, or at least humane.

Ed Visteurs, one of the most respected Everest veterans remarked, “How can they sleep at night? How can they live with the thought, I made it to the summit, but I didn’t do anything to help this guy who was dying?”

One of the forty who passed by was quoted as saying, “He was effectively dead, so we carried on...” Those were the words of a man who this year became the first double amputee to reach the summit. O, by the way, he lost his legs to frostbite 24 years earlier on another mountain climb, from which he was rescued!

And let’s not kid ourselves with the thought it’s only on mountain peaks where people in need are being passed by.

The world is broken and along with Jon Stewart we took part in the breaking of it. But by the grace of God made manifest in his Son Jesus Christ and awakened in our hearts by the power of

God’s Holy Spirit, there is a way to be good again.

In the Protestant tradition we affirm the idea of the priesthood of all believers, meaning that every person perched on every pew has a calling and a purpose in the eyes of God. What is God calling forth in you? What is God calling forth from you?

In this broken and fearful world, God wants you to know and God wants you to show that there is a way to be good again.

I was out running yesterday morning, and yes, that is a sight which becomes more pitiful with each passing year. ( “Look dear, there’s Tim Conway!” Remember the character from the old Carol Burnett Show?) Anyway, I happened to be running through a church parking lot as a number of cars were pulling in. There was obviously a meeting of some sort about to get underway. A group of folks was climbing out of a Toyota and the driver was asking the passengers if they wanted him to pick up some coffee.

It was then that I heard a woman climbing out of the back seat utter the words that are a death sentence for any ministry or church. “Surely they’ll have...” Surely, they’ll have...

We have all sorts of expectations of the “theys” of this world. But what about you? When the Lord asked, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Isaiah didn’t say, “Surely they’ll have recruited someone to go. Surely, they’ll have a volunteer.” No, when the Lord asked, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” What did Isaiah say? “Here am I, send me.”

In the name of the father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

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