He did it.
Pentecost 17, Proper 22
Fr. Tim Nunez
May my spoken word be true to God’s written word and bring us all closer to the living word, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen
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.
The library sits on the edge of the Cumberland Plateau, one thousand feet above his hometown of Winchester in the valley below. It’s positioned such that if you are driving from Winchester to Sewanee, the library looms dead center above you on a very long, straight stretch of road. It’s quite big, the only building visible on that ridge and it’s brightly lit at night.
In front of the library is a statue of John Templeton. Although it is bronze, it is painted to look lifelike, including his skin, hair, lips and eyes, and wearing a grey suit, white shirt and burgundy tie. It’s about nine feet tall and on a pedestal. When it was first built, it was in a reflecting pool, the effect being that he was walking on water. Now that has become a planter with spotlights lighting him up at night.
He is carrying the book he wrote on humility.
As Jesus has been teaching his disciples directly and as they have watched him debate and teach the Pharisees, scribes and others along the way, often using very strong hyperbole to make his points, the disciples are seeing the magnitude of the task looming in front of them to be who he is calling them to be and to do what he is calling them to do. They have to have the right actions, the right words and the right heart about everything they say and do.
That’s scary, so they ask Jesus, “Increase our faith!” No doubt, they would have loved for Jesus to simply say, “Ok!” and zap them with more faith. Instead, he immediately teaches them about the pitfalls around their request.
First is the magnitude of their request. If they have even the tiniest about of true faith in the Lord, they will be able to do far more than they can even imagine. A mulberry bush has deep roots. The sea is not nearby.
They must be ready to handle the consequences that will come when he increases their faith by rising from the dead and breathing the Holy Spirit upon them. Those consequences will include saved souls and changed lives, some miracles, and a lot of rejection, hostility, imprisonment, suffering and death. Just like Jesus.
Those consequences – success and suffering – will tempt them to take pride in their work, in their perseverance and their endurance. Here, they are actually being a little cocky to ask Jesus to increase their faith, as though he were their servant.
He is the ultimate servant-leader. Soon he will demonstrate that at the Last Supper by wrapping a towel around himself and washing their feet. But they are not to take advantage of that. They are to copy it.
All of which brings me toa confession. When I served St. Mary’s up in Belleview, it was a great fit at the right time for the parish, for me and for our family. Our call there was unlikely, it began with a nudge from Meg, and we were blessed to have a very happy and fruitful ministry there for eleven years. As we grew in faith and experience, the parish grew, including nine consecutive years of growth, eventually doubling our average Sunday attendance and tripling the budget. We also built a new sanctuary and launched dozens of ministries. The little seed threw the bush into the sea.
In my worst moments – this is the confession – I’m proud of what I did, which is false and vain. In my slightly better moments, I’ll think about what we did together. But that is false, too. We grew because collectively we kept listening for God’s will, which was simply doing what He has asked from the beginning. He touched the hearts to invite friends. He inspired people to give and to serve. He inspired my preaching and prayers. He filled in where I fell short so many times.
And today, I’m even more tempted here. I love telling my colleagues about you, about our 90 or so children and youth, about our 50 acolytes, about our Thrift Shop, about the ways so many of you serve here and in our community, about our beautiful buildings and grounds and the renovations we’ve done.
But it’s not me. And it’s not you. It is the power of the living God breathing his Holy Spirit in and through us. Our job is to stay faithful to him. Let us pray.
Dear Lord, we thank you for creating us and bringing us to this day.
We ask that you would increase our faith.
Help us to follow you and listen to you
Give us your strength, direction and blessing
Help us to give thanks for all you do in and through us
AMEN!