"Follow Me," a sermon by the Rev. Charles James Cook '74, Professor of Pastoral Theology, given on February 6, 2006 in Christ Chapel

Mark tells us that Jesus withdraws to a lonely place. It is, perhaps, a way of gathering himself, preparing himself for what now waits ahead of him. For those who embrace non-violence in a violent world, this time of preparation -- going to a lonely place -- is absolutely essential. Gandhi knew that the faithful could only endure the blows of an angry empire if the soul had been nurtured. Martin Luther King saw the merit of Gandhi's approach and prepared the marchers for freedom in much the same way. Bull Connor's fire hoses and attack dogs were no match for the soul.

Jesus is not left alone for long. The disciples pursue him and call him out. There is more work to be done. It would, of course, be a mistake to understand the disciples' efforts as anything close to faithful obedience. Mark never puts much stake in their instincts or intelligence, a theme found on almost every page of the evangelist's gospel account. No, the disciples have an agenda. They are not thinking about what lies ahead. They want to return to the past -- to Capernaum, where the ministry and the miracles have already been successful. Jesus, emerging from this lonely place, knows the truth -- embedded in the core of Hebrew scripture and tradition -- God calls us into the unknown future; God never calls us back to reside in the past. Moses, long ago, learned in the wilderness that it was easier to get the Israelites out of Egypt than to get Egypt out of the Israelites. Like the law-giver, Jesus would have to contend and struggle with his own followers.

There is something rather attractive and seductive about simply wanting to bask in the moment, particularly a successful one -- or to return to a place where affirmation and adoration are guaranteed. For the most part in that situation, you don't have to take a chance; you don't have to risk anything. You can get comfortable and highly skilled in such a context; you can also grow old and stale. After the Transfiguration, Jesus took his friends down the mountainside into the dark valley below. They never climbed it again. Jerusalem's call is always a demanding one, requiring all the compassion and commitment that one can possibly give in a lifetime.

It was a year after the General Convention of this church endorsed the ordination of women as priests that she came to us. Pauli Murray had grown up in North Carolina, just a few miles down the road from the old church where her own grandmother had been baptized as a slave in 1854. She had already lived a remarkable life -- highly educated, even though her own state university refused her admission to graduate studies because of her race. She was an early feminist, activist, teacher, counselor, and passionate advocate for the respect and dignity of every human being. She was the kind of uppity black woman who always caused a stir, because she told the truth and she told it straight. It is little wonder that the title of her own autobiography would be Proud Shoes.

We had invited Pauli Murray, who had just been ordained a priest, to come and preside at the celebration of the Holy Eucharist -- her first celebration as a priest, as it turned out -- in the same chapel where her grandmother, years before, had worshiped and been baptized as a slave. A remarkable contrast and journey, to be sure. Word of this impending event spread, and Charles Kuralt, the CBS producer of the popular On the Road series, asked to come and film the moment. He did. That evening, the old chapel was packed to witness this remarkable moment when the author of Proud Shoesbroke the bread and blessed the wine, and looked up into the balcony where her grandmother once obediently sat, and there was for a moment, peace on earth. She would later say, in that experience "all of the stands of my life had finally come together."

But there is more to this story.

Near the end of John's gospel, there is an extraordinary encounter between Jesus and Simon Peter. Jesus asks him, "Do you love me?" Simon responds, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." Jesus responds, "Feed my sheep". Jesus keeps asking the same question -- Do you love me? -- not twice but three times. Simon is confused, anxious, and hurt. But he assures Jesus each time that he does indeed love him. Then Jesus says, "Very truly I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go." And after this, he said to him, "Follow me."

It is a cold Tuesday morning, about six months after the great event in the old chapel. We are gathered in the Rector's office for our weekly staff meeting -- a command performance; not to be missed. Suddenly, there is a loud knock on the door -- an unusual disturbance, because the receptionist knows that only an extreme pastoral emergency warranted such an interruption. The door is opened and there she stands, stocking cap pulled down over her ears, a down jacket and gloves to fend off the cold wind, hiking boots, rather than shoes. Pauli Murray breaks the silence. "The governor is on campus and he is scheduled to speak in the auditorium at noon. I'm going to protest his appearance because he refuses to commute the unjustly harsh sentences of civil rights workers in Wilmington. I thought I'd drop by to see if you will join me." The painful truth can be very awkward. Someone thought to say, "You go on ahead, and when we finish, we'll be right over." The meeting went on. We never went.

There are times in ministry when the only solace is in knowing that the One who judges us is also the One who loves us the most. The God of justice also extends mercy and love -- perhaps more than we know or deserve. The author of Proud Shoes taught me something about ministry -- that is, it is more than an event, it is simply what one is willing to risk everything for -- come what may. Ministry is grounded in what one is willing to live and die for.

There is a story that is told about Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau. It seems that Thoreau had been arrested for demonstrating publicly against what he considered to be a violation of individual rights. While in jail, his friend Emerson comes to see him. In looking at his friend behind bars, Emerson says, with a sigh and a shake of the head: "Henry, Henry, Henry...why are you here?" Quietly looking up from his journal, Thoreau replies, "Waldo, Waldo, Waldo, why are you not here?"

As we seek to be faithful leaders of the church, may those words be said less frequently. May Jesus' words "Follow me" stir in us the desire to go forth, even into those places of uncertainty and what is yet unknown. For it is there that Christ is to be found.

Blessed be the name of God.

Resources:

The Holy Bible: Revised Standard Version. Mark: 1:29-39; John 21:15-19

Kebler, Richard. The Good News According to Mark

Murray, Pauli. Proud Shoes

Note: The story about Emerson and Thoreau was told to me by a former ETSS professor and good friend, Arnold Hearn.

Note: Charles Kuralt was a University of North Carolina graduate, thus his interest in the Pauli Murray story. A chapter in one of Mr. Kuralt's books details Pauli Murray's pilgrimage to Chapel Hill.