Times were hard for the prophet Elijah. For much of his ministry, he had to deal with King Ahab, who scripture describes this way, “And Ahab the son of Omri did evil in the sight of the Lord, more than all who were before him.” (1 Kings 16:30) “He did more to provoke the Lord, the God of Israel, than all the kings before him.” He married Jezebel, a Phoenician princess from Sidon who was really bad too, and built altars to the false god Baal.

It’s a fascinating story which you can read in 1 Kings, but to summarize, Elijah bravely and resolutely confronted Ahab and Jezebel and their awful blasphemy of encouraging false prophets and false gods in Israel. That’s a big no-no, by the way. Those confrontations are alongside demonstrations of God’s extraordinary provision and mercy, sending rain and feeding, even raising the dead.

When I was in seminary, a good chunk of the curriculum seemed designed to scare us. They were constantly warning us about how hard parish ministry is on clergy and their families. They pointed out different ways conflict could arise in churches. They’d bring in priests to talk to us who had been in some manner of trouble. Some had crumbled under stress and gotten into addictions or affairs and were disciplined. Others had taken the wrong call and been crushed by the experience. Some had burned out.

Meanwhile, we had a lot of conflict in the seminary itself. Our dean had been accused of sexual harassment, exonerated then disciplined anyway and eventually forced out. The students were divided in several ways. But worse, the faculty who were all ordained were as well.

Then one day during my third year, at the start of my last semester, a guy who had graduated at the end of my first year came back for a visit. I’ll call him Ken, because that’s his name. Ken Weldon, or as I like to call him, Ken “Good Servant” Weldon.

When Meg and I went to England three years ago, it just happened to be after Queen Elizabeth II died. In fact, we went to Evensong that first evening in Westminster Abbey, where her funeral had been exactly one week earlier. It felt a little odd knowing King Charles III had succeeded his mother, which changed all the signs and stationery. That’s not just because my mum is British. Although we fought our war of independence 250 years ago to throw off King George III of England, we do share a great deal of history.

I hope and pray Charles does well. Many English monarchs did. Queen Elizabeth II reigned for over 70 years, the longest of any British monarch and second longest of any in history. Queen Victoria ruled about 25 to 30% of the world’s population, the largest empire the world has ever seen. There is only one English monarch who is called “great.”  Who, you might ask?  Maybe I should ask you!  It’s not Arthur, not Henry VIII, Elizabeth I or II or Victoria. His name was Alfred. Why was Alfred great?

Our gospel today unfolds in front of the Temple at Jerusalem, just before Jesus will be arrested and crucified. Let’s quickly review that the first Temple was built at God’s instruction to Solomon to be his house among humanity. It wasn’t actually any bigger than this building, a bit taller, but it was extremely ornate, the interior was covered in gold, but was destroyed by the Babylonians around 586 BC.

The second Temple was built 70 years later in 516 on the same spot and to the same specifications, except it was much more modest. Israel was a vassal state of Persia at the time and didn’t have the resources to cover everything in gold.

To begin this sermon, I would like to call your attention to a short phrase that we hear every Sunday. Most of you have probably heard it so often that it just washes over you, without you thinking about it. Please find a Prayer Book in your pew and turn to page 360. After the “Confession” you see what is called the “Absolution.” The priest says, “Almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you all your sins through our Lord Jesus Christ, strengthen you in all goodness, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, keep you in eternal life. Amen.” The part I want you to notice is the very last part, the little phrase where the priest prays that you will be “kept in eternal life.” The point here is that eternal life comes to us in the present moment. You are in eternal life right now!

This morning’s gospel raises the issue of how we pray.

When I served at St. Mary’s in Belleview, by God’s grace he led us to build a new sanctuary. There was a section for the organ and choir off to the left, facing the nave at about a 45-degree angle. However, the pews were too close together for kneelers. There, as here, the congregation knelt for the Prayers of the People, Confession, and part of the Eucharist. So, I suggested they lean forward, sitting toward the front edge of their seats. It would look like they were kneeling and also reverential.

They agreed. Well, almost all of them agreed. One woman said, “No.” She explained that she felt very strongly that she should stand to pray. This woman was very active in ministry, a true parish leader, and she was very serious. She was the only one of about twenty who felt that way, not even her husband.

Meg and I went through a brief phase where we were enamored of Ikea. If you’ve never been, it’s an enormous store filled with all manner of housewares and furniture. When you enter, you’re supposed to go up the escalator and wind your way through the upstairs and then the downstairs, finding what you came to buy along the way; resisting or not resisting a thousand impulse buys along the way. Then at the end are Swedish meatballs. Well, a little café that sells them because it is a Swedish company.

It's a dazzling piece of capitalism.

Their furniture is inexpensive in part because they’ve outsourced the assembly part to you. We once crammed a sofa and loveseat into the back of our minivan, and still had room to bring the kids home, too.

As Jesus walked by the Sea of Galilee, He saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the lake-for they were fishermen. And, He said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As He went from there, He saw two other brothers, James, son of Zebedee and his brother, John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed Him. Matthew 4:18-22

            We just heard Jesus calling Peter, Andrew, James and John. He was calling them from something that they were very familiar with. He was calling them away from what had been the only life they knew and what appeared to be their life. They dropped everything and followed Him. My, what faith! Guts? All we know from scripture is that they were fishermen, living day after day in their profession. It doesn’t tell us if they had a passion for anything different than the only thing they knew, fishing.

What we do know is that Jesus had a plan for them.

John Templeton was from the small town of Winchester, Tennessee, the son of a poor cotton farmer. He went to Yale, graduated near the top of his class in 1934, became a Rhodes scholar at Oxford and eventually the founder of the Templeton Growth Fund. He was a brilliant man, extremely successful and a generous philanthropist. Despite becoming a billionaire, he lived frugally and lived quietly in a fairly modest home in the Bahamas.

He also had a keen interest in reconciling science and faith in the pursuit of ultimate truth, and collected books on the subject. He wanted that work to continue, so he built a library outside of Sewanee, Tennessee, where his books would go after he died, with apartments where scholars could come and study. It was completed in 2000, the year that our family arrived at Sewanee, where I went to seminary.

This week’s parable is, without question, the scariest. It includes dogs licking sores, death, and eternal punishment in a place filled with eternal flames and endless thirst. The indictment for not having a truly godly heart is clear. People know better, but apparently choose to ignore or at least minimize passages like this from Deuteronomy that are consistently in the law and the prophets.