CHI ORDINATION SERMON | SPRING 2007

When Muhammad climbed the mountain near his home in Mecca to pray, he expected some quiet time alone with his soul and his God. What he got was much more than he bargained for, and if he had known what was coming, my guess is he would have stayed home.

An unseen hand gripped his chest as if he were no bigger than a gerbil, and squeezed. As Muhammad writhed in agony, a voice filled his ears. “Recite!’ it commanded.

“But I don’t know how to read!” Muhammad protested.

“Recite!” the voice repeated.

“But I’m a nobody!” Muhammad insisted.

“Recite!”

“But who will listen to me?”

“Recite!”

When the terrifying experience was over, Muhammad stumbled down the mountain, got into bed with his wife, and cowered under the covers while she tried to comfort him. It took him days to recover, and when he finally got up the nerve to tell someone besides his wife about it, he told his brother-in-law, who was a Christian. His brother-in-law said simply, “Maybe it was God.”

“What should I do?” Asked Muhammad.

“Well, if I were you,” his brother-in-law replied, “I’d recite.”

This story has parallels in the sacred literature of many traditions. In the Jewish scriptures, we read the story of Isaiah, who found himself in the splendor of the heavenly court. His immediate reaction, upon figuring out where he was and what was going on, was to fall flat on his face and tremble. “I’m not worthy!” he cries, “I am a man of unclean lips!” So what does God do? He cleans his lips. A napkin would have done the job, but in the heavenly court, apparently, flaming coals are used. Don’t try this at home.

Once Isaiah’s mouth is cleansed, the Voice of God thunders out, “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?” And even though he knows he has a potty mouth, Isaiah pipes right up. “Here am I, send me!” he says.

This story appears again and again in the world’s scriptures because it is something that happens a lot—especially those who are called to some sort of professional ministry. I’m sure each of our candidates for ordination—and any of you who have been ordained—have your own version of this story to tell. You may not have been squeezed like a gerbil or had your teeth brushed with coals, but you know the kind of pressure the Spirit can apply when the call is given and we have not responded. And you also know the protests: “I’m too old; I’m too young; I’m too poor, I’m too busy, I’m too scared, I’m not smart enough, I’m not good enough, I’m not talented enough,” blah blah blah. Not one of these excuses is going to do any good, and you know it. “I am a man of unclean lips” didn’t get Isaiah anywhere, and neither will our protests, sincere as they may be.

The reason for this is simple: the Divine never called any perfect people. Because there aren’t any perfect people. The Divine only ever calls flawed, wounded, limited, scared, imperfect people, because that’s the only kind there are. So those of you who have doubted the call of your loved ones because you know what they’re REALLY like when they get up on the wrong side of the bed some mornings, remember that Jesus said, “No prophet is accepted in his own home town.” Those who really knew Jesus rejected his call, too.

But I invite you to rise above your doubts, and support those people you love who have heard the Spirit’s call. They are going to need you. They are going to have hard days when they doubt their own call, when they are going to say, “what the hell am I doing this for?” when they need a gentle reminder that they did not choose to do this, but were chosen by a Higher Power to bring healing into a wounded world.

A wise counselor once told a friend of mine, “Never go into the ministry unless you can’t do anything else.” He wasn’t talking about not having any native talents for anything else, but about the relentless squeezing Mohammad felt, that insistent whisper that will not let us go until we relent. For we do not say “yes” to the Spirit because we want to be rich, or because we want to be powerful or influential, because we will have none of those things.

We say “yes” to the Spirit because there is suffering in the world, and we want to bring a small part of the healing we have experienced to it; because there is war in the world, and we want to inspire peace; because there is dis-ease in the world, and we want to provide occasions for rest; because there is hunger and poverty in the world, and we want to give a small part of the abundance that we have been given to someone else.

And not just to people who “deserve it,” not just to those we approve of, not just to those who agree with us, not just to those of our tribe, or nation, or faith, or political party. People come to ChI to learn how to bring healing and peace and sustenance to all peoples, regardless of who they are, what they’ve done, who they love, what they believe, or what they don’t believe.

And we do it not because we’re perfect, but because we’re flawed; not because we’re healthy, but because we’re healing; not because we’ve arrived, but because we’re on the journey; not because we’re great, but because we know the pain of being small; not because we chose this for ourselves, but because we were chosen, despite our protests, our flaws, our insecurities, and every vestige of common sense.

Karen, Pandora, and Vicky Joy are here today not because of something they hope to gain, but because of something they were willing to surrender. Because the Spirit said, “Who will go for us?” And they, in all their weakness, had the courage to let go of their excuses; had the courage stand tall in the Divine presence; and had the courage to answer, “Here am I. Send me.”