So, I was pumping gas over in Norwich the other day, and a group of hunters were next to me, also pumping gas. And one of them came out of the store and was all flustered and got in the truck. As the other guy finished pumping and was about to get in, this other guy came whipping out of the store and started cussing the hunters. I mean loud! Everyone was watching.
Then he yelled, “If I see you around here again, I'm going to cut you!”
And then I did something stupid.
I unzipped my jacket and exposed my collar. Like I thought I was Superman or something. Like I said, stupid.
He looked at me, and shouted, “What the [expletive] are you looking at?”
Now, I would have thought I had used up my quota for stupid, but I doubled down by replying, “Wellp, I'm not really sure.”
Then we stared each other down. I stood rigid, more because I was petrified with fear. And the dude finally broke eye-contact, stomped off to he car, and peeled out.
The hunters took off in the opposite direction, and I got in my car and just trembled.
Fear. It's awful to feel, but it's what kicks in so often when your normal circumstances suddenly goes haywire.
We've been exposed to a lot of fear lately, and by lately I mean the last few decades. We've gone from fear over the big things – Duck and Cover, nuclear annihilation, commie takeovers. We've gone from that kind of fear to smaller fears, the kind like small viruses, that can infect you.
Parents that won't let their children out of their sight for a split second. Doorbells with cameras on them, so we can see who is at the door even from our phones. Increased firearm sales. Car doors that auto lock when we put the car in gear. We assume that fear is supposed to be our go-to position.
We have leaders who stoke those fears: fear of terrorists, fear of others, fear of the rich, fear of the poor, fear of bosses, fear of employees, fear of churches and charities, fear of the government, fear of crowds, fear of being alone without a phone.
And after church, today, the vestries of these churches are going to meet here in this space and discuss our own fears and need for security. And folks, I can't blame them. People can get crazy and lately you just don't know what's going to happen. And we need to be prepared and know how to calmly react to those situations that probably won't ever happen, but what if? There's nothing wrong with that.
Because thinking those things through can help alleviate the fear that comes from just being forced to react.
But I can't help but think that this is nothing new. It's just magnified because all our data inputs from all our devices and information outlets all know that fear sells.
And I wonder, who is king in our lives? Is it fear? Or is it Jesus?
Because folks, Jesus had every reason to fear when he was strapped down on that cross, and those Romans came at him with that hammer and nails. He had every reason to fear for his followers when he sent them out as sheep among the wolves. He had every reason to fear, and yet he forgave the very people who hammered those nails into his hands and feet. He had every reason to fear but instead spent his last moments granting salvation to criminals. He had every reason to fear but instead promises Paradise to all who are condemned – including the sinners among his own sheepfold.
As we end our liturgical year this Sunday, we should spend some time looking back. This year we've been spending our Sundays in Luke's church. Go back and take some time to read this Gospel. We spend lots of time with the poor in parables, with sheep and shepherds out in the fields. But there is also an underlying struggle in Luke. Jesus is setting us up to make a choice. Jesus is telling us, in no uncertain terms, that who we are depends on who we call King.
The people of his time live in fear – fear of doing the wrong thing, fear of the powerful, fear of the “other.” And Jesus confronts them with this, challenges them with this. “Choose,” he says. “Choose your king. Fear or life. Fear or me.” And over and over again, in Luke, he encourages following him with one simple command. “If I am to be your king, you must do this: love God, and love your neighbor.”
In the midst of all that fear in their lives, Jesus tells his followers to confront it with love, reject the majesty and mastery it has on them, and take up a new way.
Now, he's no Pollyanna, he warns them it won't be easy, but even as he hangs on that cross, his own majesty and dignity and divinity are clear as if hanging up there makes him a shining beacon. Because even unto death his love and forgiveness blaze through.
And his love blazes through right here, right now. Overcoming fear.
At St. Andrew’s, named for the first apostle to follow Jesus, the first one to see him for who he was – the Messiah. St. Andrew’s has opened up its chapel 24/7, open to anyone who wants to come in. Calling for all in the community to come in and see the Messiah, too.
At. St. Matthew’s, named for a tax collector, a man who inspired fear in everyone he met. A man who changed his life when he met Jesus and opened his heart and home to all. St. Matthew’s opens its home every month, offering a free, hot meal to everyone in the neighborhood, without screening them or doing a background check to make sure they are safe. All that matters is that they are hungry for food – and maybe they’ll become hungry for God.
At Emmanuel, meaning God With Us. Every year the folks of the community flood into Emmanuel on Thanksgiving – not just to eat, but to deliver meals to folks around the community. Taking that food to who-knows-where, not knowing what situation they will encounter, and not really caring. Because God-with-us means God-with-everyone. And sharing that love overcomes fear.
I stand up here and I see the faces of those who have chosen their king. Each of you. And I think you have chosen wisely.
Amen