So, when I was in college, I played Dungeons and Dragons.  Probably too much at the time, but as time went by, I laid it aside.  Lately, however, I’ve been getting back into it, mostly by listening and watching other people play on podcasts.  Yes, it’s really kind of fun.  All this to say, that I know a little something about dragons.

So, I remember when 9/11 occurred.  Everyone here does, I guess.  I was at work, and I had to send someone home because she started laughing hysterically, saying, “Oh, God…oh, God…we’re going to die.”  Over and over.  That was having quite the effect on everyone else, huddled around a computer, watching news reports.  That was only the morning.

So, for those of you who do not spend very much time in the Southeast, I need to tell you about a Southern treasure.  I speak of none other than the Krystal hamburger.  These depression-era burgers are the Southern cousin of the White Castle, small burgers, steamed in onions and covered with a pickle, mustard, and a soft, little bun.  And sometimes cheese.  

So, this story from Matthew is familiar.  So familiar that it’s almost trite.  Walking on water is so well-ingrained in our language that people who think they’re all that think they “walk on water.” Other people (or dogs, like Cotton) ARE all that, and the rest of us say they “walk on water.” This story stands alone, outside of the gospel context.  And that’s fine.

So, when I was younger, I worked at a local grocery store off and on.  I was a stock boy, mainly behind the scenes, running out to fill up this and that.  One day, the produce section was short-handed, so I was filling in, helping put things out.  It was high summer so the collard greens were plentiful and going like hotcakes.  People snatching and grabbing.  I could hardly keep up.

So, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a scientist.  Now I'm sure I didn't now what that meant given that that's such a broad word, but that's what I wanted to be.  I was born when President Kennedy was alive, and I was fully on board with every thing “moon landing.”  So, science was cool.

So, when I was in seminary, they loved to make us take various and sundry personality tests, like the Myers-Briggs or the Minnesota Multiphasic Assessment. Most of the time, I did these with a small bit of grumbling. I mean, so, I end up being an INTJ or something, what am I supposed to do? Tattoo it on my head? But there was one test that I kinda was intrigued by. It was a Strengths Finder Test.

So, as a preacher, Trinity Sunday is intimidating. Faced with the indescribable, incomprehensible mystery of what we call in theology-speak the one triune God, it is my job to say something coherent about the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit without straying into the realm of heresy. Too far, at least.

So, I know I've told you this story before, but it's such a weird take on the Ascension of Christ, that it bears repeating. If you ever have a chance to do a church tour around England, make your way to Norfolk. The motto of the village of Walsingham, in a reference to it's pre-Norman Conquest roots, is “Welcoming Visitors Since 1061,” and it is home to the Anglican Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham. And it is there, in the Chapel of the Ascension, that you will find it. Typically English, and typically weird.

So, last week our family grew by one. Her name is Maybelle, and she is a mix of black mouth cur and coon hound, kind of what Cotton is, except Cotton is old enough to have seen his mouth go from black to white. Maybelle is four months old, round about. She has all that puppy energy that seems centralized in constantly moving and sniffing. She's mostly chill and doesn't seem to be all that interested in running off as far as she can go. It seems like she would rather stay within eyesight off her people.

So, when I first got to seminary, I felt like a nerdy kid in a book-laden candy store. The campus of the University of the South at Sewanee is a fantasy world. It sits perched on the southern tip of the Cumberland Plateau. It’s high enough, and the elevation changes so fast, that you can drive around campus in the fog, then head down the mountain, and emerge into a rainstorm: what you thought was fog was someone else’s cloud.

So, it is a weird thing that on the Second Sunday of Easter the reading is exactly the same, kinda like Christmas Eve. Even Easter Sunday has options, but not this day. Maybe there's something important about hearing the story of Thomas that affects us – or should – in ways that others don't.

So, did you notice how much of Holy Week dealt with security and trying to stay safe?

So, here we are, once again sitting at the foot of the cross, witnessing the unthinkable act of crucifying the Messiah. Watching soldiers carry out their unjust orders, listening as religious nationalist leaders whip up the crowd to support an insurrectionist rather than the Son of God.

So, when I was little, we had a neighbor down the way who had fought in WWII and had lost both of his legs. His wife or son were always pushing him around in a wheel chair. All over town, you'd see them, son or wife...and the man in the wheel chair.

So, I think most of you know Andreia Keller. She's lived among us here in the New Berlin area for several years, post-COVID. And she's been involved with our churches during that time. Now, to be honest, that's been rocky at times. Andreia is, how shall I put this? Brazilian.

So, that didn't last long, our life in Paradise.  Barely two chapters, and then there we were, pushed out and left to our own devices.  And frankly, given our track record from Genesis on, being left to our own devices is no way to be.  But it sure feels human.  And I guess that's the point of the Bible.  Sure it's a story of how God works, but it's just as much a story of what God works with.  Us.  A creature that couldn't last two chapters in Paradise.

So, last Friday, at out Friday breakfast, Fr. Brooks and I were talking about a certain seminary book, White Women's Christ, Black Women's Jesus” by Jacquelyn Grant. The feminist thesis, hinted at in the title, is that white women and black women tend to see the incarnation of God differently. And this more or less extends to men, too. Whites, from their position of privilege, Grant goes on to suggest, tend to relate to the image of a heavenly, resurrected Christ the king, sitting up in the clouds on a throne, exercising his power and authority. Somewhat distant, out there somewhere, watching what's going on down here. Occasionally intervening with some judgement if you're bad and some special favors if you're good.

So the other day, I was grumbling about life over our Friday breakfast at Tallman's with Brooks. Seems my iPhone had updated, and I was complaining about all the changes. Nothing behind the wall (as the kids say) had changed, but the way the iPhone screen looked sure had. Everything was cheerful ...too cheerful, if you ask me. All my apps were brighter; things seemed bubblier. It was if the phone was shouting, “Hello! So good to see you!” every time I opened it up. And I wasn't having it.

So, in high school, I had this friend named Kevin. Kevin was what we would call that big, silent type. Linebacker, a fairly good student, worked part-time at the local garage. He lived down the street from me in a nice split-level house with nice parents, a nice dog, and a nice cat. When he got his driver's license, his dad bought him a used Alfa Romeo Spider that didn't run. But Dad was a mechanic and showed Kevin all he needed to know to get that car up and running.