One summer, before my grandaddy died, he got me and my friend, Randy, jobs with a farmer friend of his. I had decided I was done with competitive swimming the year before, so I had time on my hands. And I had a new (read “used”) car that needed gas and insurance and lots of work, so I needed the money. Man, oh, man, I had no idea what I was in for.

So, I went into that summer expecting days full of air conditioning and tv and hours wasted away s, but my mom had different plans. We had moved into a new house after the divorce, and she decided she wanted a garden. So, with the slow boil of summer beginning, we got to work, and the memories of AC and TV faded into the realm of what could've been. The first project was an enormous vegetable garden with wildflowers interspersed. Cone flowers will grow just about anywhere, and zucchini squash’ll fake it, at least for a season or two. Where I grew up, you’d have about an inch of chirt, that mixture of dirt and small rock, before hitting thick, hard clay that went down about six feet. You couldn’t dig a hole without a maddock, and that summer, I dug some holes.

So, for a while there, I was an avid reader of the Harry Potter series. The books were interesting, complex, adventuresome, AND it gave me a natural ‘in’ with my customers at the coffee shop, which was by a college campus, and everyone there was reading them. I can’t remember which book it was when I finally had to put it down. It was the one with the evil Delores Umbridge.

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.

But, y'all, here's the thing. Here's what I want to talk about today. While I was there, the Tennessee State Legislature lost it's collective mind.

So, if you ever decide you want to take a road trip, to just pack the car and go, in any direction to anywhere, I want to suggest you consider South Dakota. It is an amazing place; you won’t go wrong.

So, there is a Taoist story about a carpenter and his apprentice:

A carpenter and his apprentice were walking together through a forest. And when they came across a tall, huge, gnarled, old, beautiful oak tree, the carpenter asked his apprentice: "Do you know why this tree is so tall, so huge, so gnarled, so old and beautiful?"

So, Moses is giving his farewell speech today. He has led this wild, complaining, endearing, loving, rough group of people for 40 years. It has, indeed, been an adventure. Escape from slavery. Miraculous interventions. Meeting God, hearing God, listening to God. Getting on the wrong side of God. Getting back in God's good graces. All while driving a car with thousands of unruly kids in the backseat.

So, the problem with watching a documentary about food is that you end up really hungry. I watched one last week called The Search for General Tso, which attempted to trace the origins of that ubiquitous Chinese dish. It’s a mostly fun, light-hearted movie, complete with interviews with all sorts of folks.

So, I'm sure I've told the story of Fr. Brooks and I on the Mount of the Beatitudes, the spot where Jesus gave his sermon on the mount and uttered the words we just heard in our Gospel reading. This area is essentially a long, wide slope rising from the shore near Tabgha (where Jesus would later feed the 5,000) and reaching it's highest point at just under 500 feet. And up there, about two thirds of the way up, is this cave that you have to stoop over to fit in.

So, when I was kid, I had great-great uncle named Gilliam, and when I knew him, he was blind. And he fascinated me. I would quietly stand in the corner and see how he could fry his own eggs for breakfast. I can still see him touching the corner of the egg to 'see' if it was done!

Back in our seminary days, my buddy Brooks and I went to Israel for a two week pilgrimage. Now, Brooks and I, well, most of y’all have seen us. You know we’re gonna make our way as faithfully as we can, but we’ll also steal away and cut up in the back row. We’re not disruptive. And we actually are attentive. And, with God’s help, we try to stay open to what's happening around us.

Oh Lord, we’re finally here. Merry Christmas!

So, on the internet, we have access to the world and its many realities in ways no one has had before us. The problem is that most of us don’t appreciate that breadth of information. Instead, most of us visit the same 10 websites every day. I can think of a few: Facebook, Google Docs, Google Mail, Google Maps, and probably a news site or two, and of course Amazon!

So, in many action movies there is a trope that often plays out. And if I were to film a movie, here is how it would go. Somewhere towards the end of the movie, it's time for the final shoot-out or battle when the good guys finally catch up with the bad guys. The bad guys are holed-up is a large rusty abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town.

So, sometimes it's kinda hard to like people when they are prophets. Let's admit it. Sometimes prophets can kinda be jerks. Loud. Pushy. Getting in your face. Typing in all caps. And with John the Baptist, I have this special problem. You see, as a kid, I managed to see “Planet of the Apes” and “The Greatest Story Ever Told” at about the same time. So, I got a double dose of Charlton Heston, all grimy, dressed in rags, out in the wilderness. And as hard as I try, I can't quite separate hearing Heston as Taylor, yelling, “Get your stinking paws off me, you dirty apes,” from Heston as John the Baptist, yelling, “Repent! You brood of vipers!” Say what you want about the man, Charlton Heston had a voice. And boy could he yell.

“Bah humbug!” I’m sure most of you are familiar with Charles Dickens’ beautiful story of redemption, second chances, and the spirit of Christmas. A Christmas Carol, with the miserly Ebenezer Scrooge, is a true classic, and there’s something about it that still captures our attention, even today. But we’re not to Christmas yet. Turkey leftovers still stuff the fridge. Black Friday thundered in with a shocking display that upheld bargain hunting over human decency. And though the first real snow has fallen...and melted, a White Christmas is still a long way off. For us Episcopalians, we are celebrating today, but we aren’t celebrating Christmas, not yet. So, “Bah humbug.”

So, Friday I was just cruising up to Hannaford in Clinton to get some fresh okra. I'd left the gym so I drove through Madison, headed toward Oriskany Falls. And there, on the side of the road, by the General Store...was a body. Face down, on the side of the road. In something that looked like a giant leaf bag with its head sticking out.

Bob Bell was not an important man in the way the world measures important. In fact, he was someone that even his friends could often forget about. But for some reason I've been thinking of Bob on this All Saints Sunday. When I was a kid, Bob Bell was a saint I didn't recognize. Not a particularly holy man. Not an defender of the poor. Not a fighter for justice. Not a figure of deep theological wisdom. Most of the time, he was about the most pitiful person I could imagine.