Author: churchgoodshepherd823

Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Pentecost XVII, October 2, 2022, at 8:00 &10:00 a.m.
By Rev. Stephen Galleher

EVER NEAR, NEVER FAR

“Take delight in the Lord,*
and he shall give you your heart’s desire.
Be still before the Lord *
And wait patiently for him.”

(Psalm 37:4,7)
“Recalling your tears, I long to see you so that I
may be filled with joy.” (II Tim.2:4)
Good morning! Do you remember as a
child in grade school how your teacher, to
take attendance, would call you by name, and
you would answer, “Present!” or “Here!” An
innocent enough response, right?—but a very
powerful statement about the reality of the
moment. That you had shown up, were sitting
in your seat, and ready to be counted.

And of all the words to describe the reality,
the stark, beautiful reality of the God we
worship, there are few words, I believe, as
powerful as the word “presence.” Nothing
remote or aloof about this God—no, siree!
Not an abstraction, not a concept, not
something to note and yawn over, like the
hypotenuse of a triangle. God’s presence is
something we experience.
I was discussing with some retired clergy
friends of mine last Tuesday (Wade Renn
among them!) and we all agreed that God’s
presence is the lens through which all of
scripture comes alive, in contrast to just some

ideas on a page, or comments about the
historic past.
It is said so superbly in our psalm
this morning. Despite all the song of woe
and the lamentations, we are told to “Take
delight in the Lord.” By being patient, we
somehow know that God is near. He is
everpresent, even in times of deepest
trouble and sorrow. With such a posture,
God will give us our heart’s desire!
Like a bird unfolds its winds to protect the
fledgling in the nest. This is a protection
of love, a promise of perpetual presence.
Wow: that’s pretty thrilling statement of a
God, who loves us to this extent.

Let’s look a minute further at the
pervasiveness of this God of presence.
Remember the word Shekinah from the
Old Testament. It meant the dwelling
place of God. “The Lord is in his holy
temple; let all the earth keep silence
before him.” The burning bush and the
cloud that rested on Mount Sinai. Whether
a cloud or a pillar of fire: these images
were images of the glory of God. What
made them “glorious” was that they point
to a God who is in our midst, not off at
some board meeting.
“Wherever two or three are gathered
together in my name, there am I in their

midst.” (Matthew 18:20) Isn’t this the meaning of
the Jewish shiva? The family of a
departed Jewish person sits shiva after the
burial. This is when friends come to just
be present with the grieving family. What
a beautiful idea. Just to be with them. No
obligation to say anything (words that are
so often strained and clichéd). No
requirement to heap gifts or money on the
bereaved. Just to spend some time with
them. Wasn’t it tragic, during the worst of
COVID, that loved ones were left to die
alone in hospitals, away from family
members?

And the 23 rd Psalm, “Yay, though I
walk the valley of the shadow of death, I
fear no evil, for you are with me.” It is no
accident that this, perhaps the most quoted
psalm, for its quiet comfort to those in
pain and particularly salvific to those
walking to imminent execution.
Another of my favorite pieces of
scripture is the story in Daniel of
Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.
Remember as these three men were
thrown into a fiery furnace by
Nebuchadnezzar because they refused to
bow down to the king’s image, they were
saved from death by a fourth figure

walking with them in the flames; and this
fourth man “was like a son of God.”
When we think of presence, we think
of quiet assurance, a certain something
that evokes security and continuity.
Perhaps one of the reasons for Queen
Elizabeth II’s popularity, as demonstrated
during the last fortnight, is her quiet
presence amidst the tumult of world
events. This calm posture assures us of a
longed-for stability and continuity.
Similarly, the role of ambassadors is to
stand for the sovereignty of a country,
being a kind of apolitical figure, speaking
rarely on particular policies unless as a

spokesperson and messenger for the chief
executive of the country they represent.
The presence of God means little
until it is experienced by you and me. And
I ask you to consider those moments in
your life when this presence was felt most
intensely. One such a moment for me was
when I visited the Grand Canyon a few
years ago. It was a clear, beautiful Sunday
morning in winter. Few tourists were
about. As my friend and I stopped at the
first pullover, we walked the twenty-five
or so yards to the rim to see the view. It
was one of the most special moments of
my life. The beauty, the grandeur, and

(perhaps most of all) the silence. No
photograph or video can come anywhere
close to the experience of being there. I
cannot imagine anyone, even a hardcore
atheist, not being struck by the wonder of
God’s presence. And the message is that
this revelation of presence spills over to
all of God’s creation. Not one spot is
excluded. And the important thing is that
having been there to see this teaches me
that this Grand Canyon is always there. It
is a reminder that all things come of God
and reveal God’s glory. Look at the cover
of our bulletin this morning. Meister’s

beautiful saying is there: “Between God
and Me there I no ‘Between.’”
What is the best thing a person can
give another human being?
“Presents/Presence.”
I ask myself, and I ask you to ask
yourself, “Where can I go from God’s
presence?” When we look at any other
person, a flower, a honeybee, a
mountain—anything—we see the
incarnation of God’s love for us and the
universe we call home. Is not God
reaching through the veil of our
nearsightedness and revealing his/her
smiling face? If we do not experience

God’s presence here and now, where will
we experience it, just when will be
experience it? Amen.

Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd”
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Pentecost XIII, September 4, 2022, at 10:00 a.m.
By the Rev. Stephen Galleher

HOORAY FOR DISAPPOINTMENT!

“1 Happy are they who have not walked in the counsel of the wicked, nor
lingered in the way of sinners, nor sat in the seats of the scornful!
2 Their delight is in the law of the LORD, and they meditate on his law day and
night.
3 They are like trees planted by streams of water, bearing fruit in due season,
with leaves that do not wither; everything they do shall prosper.
(Psalm 1:1-3)
“See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity.”
(Deuteronomy 30:15)

Have you ever had one of those days where everything seemed to
go amiss. Nothing serious may have happened. Your physical health
remained ok. No auto accident or things like that. Just everything else,
from leaving your phone inside when you go out, to potholes and
detours on your way to the store. to people driving too slowly, blocking
you at every step of the way, to long lines, unpleasant store clerks, to
just about everything. At least it feels that way.
Now I hope that I’m talking to a relatively mature congregation this
morning and that I am speaking with a serene, accepting, smiling group

of people. I do admire you. And I. too, have been like. At times! I say
“at times,” for it is those other times, when I am an infantile brat,
kicking and screaming about the way my life is unfolding. These things
that bother me, from childhood to adulthood I would like to reflect on
with you a few minutes. I am talking about disappointment, and I title
this little meditation “Hooray for Disappointment!”
Wouldn’t it be great if our lives unfolded just as we wish them to
and just as we would expect? I think even 2-year-olds have learned that
this is just not the way it is. Mommy doesn’t come just when our diapers
demand it; that cookie we are reaching for does not arrive on time. And
that spoon we use to beat on the table of our highchair just doesn’t get
answered. Wah, wah, waah! Poor little Stevie, poor little Johnny, poor
little Mary. We all know the sting of disappointment.
Disappointments result from expectations not being met. We expect
the electricity to be working when we get home in the evening. We
expect our partner to remain loyal to us. We expect a higher level of ease
and comfort in our retirement years. The pain and discomfort from
unmet expectations amount to mild irritation or resentment and anger to

disgruntlement and discouragement—depending, of course, on how
earnestly we hold these expectations. The point, of course, is not to
judge our disappointments (“I shouldn’t feel like that!” “How immature
of me to feel that way”) That only worsens the situations. It is important
instead only to become aware or remind ourselves that we are simply not
getting what we want: what we expect to happen just isn’t happening. I
can excuse myself like the guy who said, “I am very disappointed in
gravity. It always lets me down!”
And let’s be real: life is full of disappointments. I haven’t met
anyone who claims never to have had any. If I wanted to, I could list two
dozen disappointments I experience even before I get to the kitchen to
eat my breakfast.
Now what I have just suggested takes me to a powerful insight I had
the other day when thinking about disappointments.
Disappointments are nothing other than my labeling a situation that
arises in my life. What’s one person’s “disappointment” is another
person’s “opportunity.” You yourself must admit that many of our lives’

so-called, so-labeled disappointments were really blessings that we did
not recognize until later in life.
Disappointments, then, are on us. We are doing nothing but
describing something that happens to us. It is neither a failure nor a
success. It just is! I know this is easier said than lived. There is a
negative side to us that wants to be down a lot. There was a cartoon I
saw recently of a guy with a tee shirt that read: “I’ve given up all
expectations and I’m still disappointed.” Almost anything can be a
disappointment, as in this little poem called “Almost Perfect.”
Cloudless sky
Perfumed breeze
Open doors
Glistering emerald green
Buzzes in, [A butterfly!]
On transparent wings —
Lands on lunch!
As much as we might want to pin the blame on other people or
circumstances for our disappointment, much of our discouragement

stems from our own self-criticism. Perhaps if we were a bit kinder to
ourselves, we’d be a little less eager to talk about how others have
disappointed us.
But think how things change when we give up expecting and
rehearsing all the so-called “disappointments” we have experienced. On
one level it’s as simply as relabeling! We can turn from a cynic, an
Eeyore from the Winnie the Pooh stories, to a joyful person, greeting
everything in our lives as a gift. Because everything in our lives comes,
in fact, as a gift, doesn’t it? Things we work for, things we don’t work
for: all show out of the blue; and the only finally useful attitude is
gratitude, not disgruntlement.
The thing this topic asks of us is, “How free do you want to be?
How happy do you want to be?” I think many of us think there is
nothing we can do about our discouraging attitude. We are stuck and
think we are doomed to remain that way.
I love the old song, “Home on the Range.”
O give me a home, where the buffalo roam,
Where the deer and the antelope play;

Where seldom is heard a discouragin’ word
And the skies are not cloudy all day. …
And this lesser-known verse:
How often at night, when the heavens are bright,
With the lights from the glitterin’ stars,
Have I stood here amazed, and asked as I gazed
If their glory exceeds that of ours?
Let’s look around us. Isn’t there plenty to be amazed at? How much
time need we waste on disappointment. Sure, there is plenty we could
point to if we want to shift focus.
In conclusion, there are many strategies we can learn to turn around
a day in which everything seems to go amiss. Acceptance is a big tool,
but mine is a kind of combination of acceptance and mindfulness.
Mindfulness sounds like a big word, but it is really a very simple
word. Just observe yourself. Watch yourself go through the chain of
emotions. Like you’re in a movie theater watching others act out. I find
that when I do this—when I just note my feelings ebb and flow, arise

and disperse—I don’t get so involved. I’m like a kind spectator of my
day.
Living this way can be its own kind of bliss.
I believe we are meant to be happy, meant to live free. And the
Gospel of Christ proclaims these prizes are here, now for the taking.
Christ has died; Christ is risen. We too can live alongside the one who
promises this for us and for all who wish to take part.
Come join the dance.
Amen.

Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Pentecost, August 7, 2022, at 10:00 a.m.
By The Rev. Stephen Galleher

Do You Hear What I Hear?

“Do you hear what I hear, said the night wind to the little lamb?”                            (Christmas Song)

“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

                                              (Luke 12:32)

How you ever considered just how much listening you do in your life? However much we listen or however well we listen, we do one heck of a lot of it. It’s no wonder that we may not be too excited to listen, really listen, to the sounds and voices closest to us.

          Haven’t you turned the TV off at night when the commentators go on and on and on about the events of the day? We can grow cynical about just how much wisdom or lack thereof they are giving us. Even good music, sometimes when we are listening, we just say to ourselves, “Enough already!” And we turn it off, and the music ceases. Whew!

        But it’s scary what we might hear if we only listened better.

        There was a man in a mental hospital. All day he would put his ear to the wall and listen. The doctor would watch the guy do this day after day for months. Finally, the doctor decided to see what this man was listening to, so one day he approached the wall and put his own ear up to the wall and listened. He heard nothing.

        He turned to the mental patient and said, “I don’t hear anything!”

        The mental patient replied, “Yeah, I know. It’s been like that for months!”

        It’s really a shame when you think about it. Do we really listen when we’re listening? Or are we too busy framing what we are going to say in reply? That we will give advice, say something cleverer that what we have just heard and show ourselves more knowledgeable? Don’t we regret not hearing something important that said to us in the past? It could have made a huge difference to the rest of our lives.

       I really enjoy the Christmas song, “Do you hear what I hear?” I like it because it calls our attention to just how much we might be missing by listening more closely to the words of scripture. We recall that listening was the original way that Christians absorbed the words of the Bible. It was not until the invention of the printing press and general literacy that folk could read what that had formerly only been hearing. It was a wonderful advancement for sure, but it also entailed a loss. For serious hearing, serious listening can have an impact that reading may not. Why do we love drama so much? The Bible is full of drama. It is primarily a book of poetry, of romance, history and ecstasy. When we listen, our heads tend to be upraised, fully attentive.

       Do you hear what I hear? Do we hear what is proclaimed to us? Speaking for myself, I’d hate to confess the number of great things I miss hearing, especially in scripture. The Bible is a book of proclamation, of good news, of consolation, hope, joy. I believe if I listened more closely to the incessant drumbeat through the words of God’s love, I might just take all this glory more to heart.

          Today’s Gospel, for example, sneaks in a little sentence that it would be easy to miss. It is this: “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” Wow! Can we hear this, really hear it? That God gives to every one of us the kingdom. You, me and everyone we know and even those we don’t know are given the freedom to walk nobly about in this beautiful land of love.

          But this is just one of the lesser well-known things that God proclaims to us if we but listen.

          “You are the light of the world” I will pause briefly after this familiar passages. Do you hear what I hear?

Or this: “What’s the price of a pet canary? Some loose change, right? And God cares what happens to it even more than you do. He pays even greater attention to you, down to the last detail—even numbering the hairs on your head! So don’t be intimidated by this talk about canaries. You’re worth more than a million canaries.”
          Do you hear what I hear?

“Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” 

(Joshua 1:9)

       “Behold, the tabernacle of God is with us, and God will dwell with us, and we shall be God’s people. And God will wipe away every tear from our eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain.” (Revelation 21:3-4)

       “Or do you not realize about yourselves that Jesus Christ is in you?” (II Cor. 13:5)

          “Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is all his idea, and all his work. All we do is trust him enough to let him do it. It’s God’s gift from start to finish! We don’t play the major role. If we did, we’d probably go around bragging that we’d done the whole thing! No, we neither make nor save ourselves. God does both the making and saving. He creates each of us by Christ Jesus to join him in the work he does, the good work he has gotten ready for us to do.” (Ephesians 2:7-10)

          This beautiful passage is from a translation called the Message Bible. I recommend you read it. It makes so many passages come alive that they never have before. Do you hear, really hear?

          The ability to listen is one of the greatest gifts we can be given, and it is one of the greatest gifts we can give others. When we listen well, we are listening very intently with respect even reverence to those who are speaking. It’s a sacred act, to listen.

          What do you do when you are listening to those who speak too much or too long? This is a complicated question, but I know people like that? Such people for me are challenges. Can I continue to listen? Can I continue to show them respect, even reverence? The challenge is for me to grow up and stop getting only what I want. Most people want to be listened to. Some very much hunger to be really listened to. Then my job is to listen, to really listen.

          Isn’t the job of all of us to “listen with the ear of the heart”?

       Amen.

Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Pentecost, July 31, 2022, at 10:00 a.m.
By Stephen Galleher

The Dilemma of Impermanence

“I saw all the deeds that are done under the sun; and, see, all is vanity and chasing after wind.”

(Ecclesiastes 1:12-14)

“Even though honored, [we] cannot live forever* [we] are like the beasts that perish.”

(Psalm 49:11)

“Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.”

   (Galatians 6:7)

The realization, which we are both honored and burdened with since childhood, is a fact we had rather ignore, at least most of the time. And that is the fact that each of us, absolutely without exception, is going to die!

         For who likes to hear that one day, a day very few of us know for sure, we will cease being here? Gone from the day-to-day reality of our lives. And, to put it plainly…destiny unknown.

         I suspect that we learn of this raw fact at a very early age. My first memory of it was when I wondered how I could possibly envision a life after death that lasts forever. Do any of us look forward to such a fate? Any more than strangely, we can’t envision a life on earth lasting forever, as much as we would prefer that the life we live now not end, thank you very much.

         But end it does and end it must. So, let’s sit with this fact a bit and see if it’s as grim as it sometimes seemed cracked up to be.

         I like to consider the inevitability of our death as just one example of impermanence. For everything I can think of in my experience is impermanent, from all the contents of nature, and all the artifacts and contents of human nature. Everything is always in flux, everything moves away from what and where it is a moment or so ago to the right now.

         Here’s just a short list: my age, my family and friends, my home, my interests, my likes and dislikes, my thoughts; the weather, the skyline of Manhattan, the streets of my town, the state of politics, the leaders of my town, state, country. Yes, even mountains are moving and changing, some very slowly and, with avalanches, fires, and other physical phenomena, some quite quickly.

         And the length of our lives. The tragedy of early deaths; the humble gratitude for an old age, especially a healthy one. How would you like to be a mayfly? The mayfly has the shortest lifespan of any known animal, twenty-four hours. Think of it. It never has even a slightest chance of visiting Great Adventure. And I’ve heard that Okinawa, a place in Costa Rica, a town in California, and a town in Greece, and one in Italy, are considered “blue zones,” having people there who live the longest and healthiest lives. So, don’t beat me to the airport please, even if I don’t speak Japanese, Spanish, Greek or Italian.

         So, I hope I’ve made my point. Avoid it if we wish, pretend to be all brave about it if we wish, but death is in the picture for you and me. I suppose part of this avoidance is due to another fact, namely, that we have no irrefutable evidence that even one person who has ever died and returned and told us if we survive death and what lies beyond death. Not one.

         But there is another side to this lament, if we wish to see it this way. And that is that life itself screams at us with other point of view. There is, first, the evidence of our faith, the faith in the grand lover, Jesus Christ. We point to his resurrection not so much as scientific evidence that he physically came forth from his tomb in Gethsemane. But that he tells us that the love he reveals in his life is our inheritance, that our life is hidden in his life: that where Christ is, we are also.

         We come to believe and live this incredible promise as we see the rewards of a life lived as God wants us to live it. Don’t we feel the assurance and confirmation of Christ’s promise when we think of all the joy. The joy we have received from family members and from friends? Don’t the coffee hours we share here at Church of the Good Shepherd point to the banquet prepared for us in heaven? And I invite you to think of special moments in your life, a laugh together with old friends, a side-spitting old video of Sid Caesar, a piece of music, classical or otherwise, where you sensed, you knew, that Christ was right. That God is love, and that this love sits inside as well as outside time and space. And that we are in it now. This love will not let us go.

         So, the fact of our death need not depress us. Of course, grief is real. It is wrenching to lose we love. There is mystery in loss. It is the impermanence I spoke of earlier.

         But the temporary nature of our lives can draw us toward the grandest emotion of all: gratitude. We are alive now; this moment, and in nostalgia all earlier moments, the joyful and the sad ones, are part of the life we live now and rejoice in. And I think within the context of our Christian heritage, no matter how deeply we have absorbed and incorporated it in our lives, points beyond this life of ours.

         For there is something permanent about love. A clergy friend of mine used that word a year or so ago. He said love is “permanent.” It is a revelatory word. Do you not agree that the love you have experienced in your life is permanent? And aren’t you and I, who have experienced this love: are we not, as well, permanent? Just as the love isn’t going anywhere, so too, we aren’t going anywhere.

         Have I then been talking out of both sides of my mouth? Everything is impermanent. I made a convincing case for that, I think. And yet I am suggesting an even greater reality, that the love that this impermanent life manifests is permanent. Can we hold both things in our two hands—impermanence and permanence?

         Perhaps we can attend to the opening sentences of the funeral service. In our Baptism, have we not already died and been raised?

For none of us has life in himself,

and none becomes his own master when he dies.

For if we have life, we are alive in the Lord,

and if we die, we die in the Lord.

So, then, whether we live or die,

we are the Lord’s possession.

“Your life is hid with Christ in God!”

         Amen.

Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Pentecost, July 3, 2022, at 8:00 and 10:00 a.m.

Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing?
Or
Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

“You shall see, and your heart shall rejoice; your bodies shall flourish like the grass; and it shall be known that the hand of the Lord is with his servants” (Isaiah 66:14)

“Come now and see the works of God, *

how wonderful he is in his doing toward all people…. His eyes keep watch over the nations.” (Psalm 66:4,6)

“Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow.” (Galatians 6:7)

“See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. “ (Luke 10:3)

I was wondering, as I began to reflect on what to share with you this morning, if many of you feel as I do—like we have been slugged in the stomach? Our heads are reeling with all the bad news in our national life, and we feel the anxiety rising as to whether this country can survive the many and accumulating problems that beset us. It’s hard to remain hopeful in the face of one revelation after another, one scandal after another, and the assault on the very foundations of what we thought was our stable democracy called the United States.

And then we read today’s scriptures where it calls us on to rejoice that we, God’s people, will flourish like the grass, because God’s hand is with us. We are told to behold the wonderful things God is doing for us. “His eyes,” the Psalmist writes, “keep watch over the nations.”

“Oh, yeah?” we can honestly reply. It certainly doesn’t look like that at all. A senseless, terrible war rages unabated in Ukraine, thousands dying, a country being slowly reduced to rubble. Our country here at home divided like never before in our lifetime with justice seemingly far from just and people baring their teeth and their fists. Where’s the love? Is God, in fact, keeping watch any longer, if indeed he once did? The evidence might seem quite sketchy.

And we Christians. We are told that we are being sent out like lambs among wolves. But that might sound grand and virtuous, but it can be darn hard to distinguish the lambs from the wolves. And, if we are honest, it can be hard to figure out which we are?

Are we wolves in lambs’ clothing? I sometimes feel that way. Am I not a wolf when hatred and vengeance can fill my heart as I watch the evening news?

It’s not just the news. Do you ever find yourself saying things, and behaving in a way that doesn’t feel like you?  Do you find yourself reflecting on a relationship and wondering why it made you feel like a different person?

How about trying to impress someone and acting in a way that makes you feel like a phony. Or shrinking into yourself when a certain friend is around. Or even saying things just to hurt somebody. In short, just not being your authentic self.

But make no mistake: our calling is to love, to go forth in a spirit of peace, of forgiveness and reconciliation. As the Epistle puts it, “God is not mocked, for we reap what we sow.” I’d like to point fingers at all those who will get theirs, to whom justice will be served—excluding myself, of course! But remember, the General Confession in our Communion service is called “General,” because it includes everyone. All have fallen short of the glory of God.

Yes, it can be hard to keep a faith in a loving, sovereign God when we see such disruption and injustice and inhumanity. But it is perhaps such troublesome times as these that present us with the greatest challenge. To say yes to a world loaded for bear, with everyone’s hand on the trigger is perhaps a challenge we do not have the courage to undertake. But this is precisely the challenge that Jesus faced…and met.

Jewish life under the Roman occupation of Palestine was by no means easy. Even the Jewish Sanhedrin was corrupt. We aren’t unique in our criticism of our own highest court. 

And suppose we lived in 1860 America or 1929 at the beginning of the Great Depression? Or 1939 Europe? Or 1945 Japan? Or 1950 Korea? Tell me where and when we could relax our shoulders and our minds and breathe the fresh air of peace and world harmony?

There is a new documentary about the life and music of poet and songwriter Leonard Cohen. In it, he says, “If you look around, you see a world that cannot be made sense of. You either raise your fist or you say ‘Hallelujah.’” Can we lose hope in humanity? Can we afford this luxury?

Isn’t that beautiful? This is what people of faith have been saying for millennia and which confronts us today. Can we sing “Hallelujah” in the face of a world so seemingly out of kilter?

The words of this beautiful song by Leonard Cohen have the repeating refrain, “Hallelujah, hallelujah” which rises out of all the tension and struggle and tears. This is the hallelujah that arises from the cross, a cross which stretches across history to tell us that we are lambs among wolves but that we are redeemed by our looking at one who loves us through it all, even when we turn into wolves ourselves. “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” Father, forgive us, for we forget just how loving is this shepherd who stays closer to us than our own breath. We all have capacity both for love and generosity on the one hand and for selfishness and hate on the other. I know I do.

The love we know as Christians is a love that does not let us go and that will not let us go. So let us be of good courage and render to no one evil for evil but strengthen the faint-hearted, support the weak and honor every single human being. For each human being is our brother or sister. Jesus teaches us that. And he gives us the strength to sing Hallelujah, for there is just no other song to sing.

[Play a clip from Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.”]

Amen.

Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Pentecost, June 5, 2022, at 8:00 and 10:00 a.m.
By The Rev. Stephen Galleher

Breathe on Me,
Breath of God!

“And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.” (Acts 21:1-2)

“You hide your face, and they are terrified; * you take away their breath, and they die and return to their dust.” (Psalm 104:30)

“Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” (John 14:9-10)

Surely one of the top miracles of our lives (and there are more of them than we can count) is the first breath we take when we are born. To confess my ignorance, I thought the doctor or midwife hit the newborn on its backside to get the baby breathing; but no, it happens without human intervention, just like a magic trick, though I’m sure the scientists have a more detailed explanation.

          That first breath that we all take: I was going to say, “It takes our breath away.” But that’s not a good metaphor! This first breath is, in fact, the breath of life. This event holds a major place at the beginning of our Scripture: Genesis chapter 2, verse 7: “God formed [us] out of dirt from the ground and blew into [our] nostrils the breath of life. [We] came alive—living souls!”

          What is breath? Do you think you know? Do you think you can see it? We see it on a cold winter’s day, when our warm breath meets freezing air, but the breath itself is invisible—and it points to something truly spiritual. Look at your own breath! Or better, since you cannot see it, focus on your own breath. Where do you think it comes from? Did you put it there? Did you have anything to do with the breath of the person sitting next to you.

          This mysterious thing, for I suggest it is a mystery: so common, so close, and yet so wild and unknown. That this breath of mine and yours points to God, invisible yet ever present, surrounding us, within us, the presence of our life itself. And we know how precious it is with those of us with asthma, COPD, emphysema or who have had bouts of bronchitis. Just as suddenly as it has been given us, our breath can be taken away.

          It was there at the beginning of creation. God’s spirit. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was formless and void, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the waters.” (Genesis 1:1-5)

                God’s breath is the spirit of creation. It is life itself. And we recognize this all around us.

          As when we say, “This kid is full of spirit.” Or addressing him directly, “That’s the spirit!” Or, “What a spirited horse we have here!”

          And on this day in the church year, Pentecost, also known as Whitsunday, we celebrate the Holy Spirit, Jesus’s parting gift of himself as the earthly pilgrimage of Jesus ends. It is announced like this: “And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.” (Acts 21:1-2)

What is “a mighty wind” but another word for breath? It’s no wonder that God is often shown in art as blowing, and his breath as a mighty wind.

Spirit, wind, breath: all manifestations of the life of God. And the gift of Pentecost is that all those folks from so many tribes and languages were all talking like crazy (you know like a bunch of women at a tea party (sorry, ladies!), or like a bunch of men at the local pub—lots of noise. And guess what, they understood one another. Because the sound of the wind was the language of love.

          Don’t we know what this language is about? We hear it all the time when we hear a beautiful symphony orchestra. A symphony orchestra is full of wind instruments, not just the reeds (the clarinets, oboes, and bassoons) but also the brass instruments (the trumpets, trombones, and horns), all of which are propelled by (you said it!)—the breath. Wind! And everyone in the audience of whatever nationality understands what is played. Just like at Pentecost.

          And so, we needn’t get confused or roll our eyes over the notion of “the Holy Spirit.” The word Holy Spirit as the so-called third person of the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—can become too abstract, something we had to memorize in our catechism or hear sung about by a beautiful choir. Ok, but the Holy Spirit is much more concrete. Suppose there is absolutely no distinction between the spirit, the breath that you and I breathe and God’s spirit, God’s Holy Spirit?

          My breath and your breath. Can you say that there is a distinction between them? It is our life, right? I know. I am breathing and you and breathing. But what is the difference between these breathings? Are they not the one life? Substitute the word “spirit” for life. My spirit is no different from the spirit of that person in Romania I have never met. Aren’t they in one sense the same spirit, the same life? And is this one life that we both share not divine? Let’s call it “holy.” Ah, ha! I’ve got us. I’ve got us caught in the divine life that we all share and that we all breathe together.

          And if we want to take it even further? What about our pet dogs and cats? The animals at the zoo and in the forests and seas?

          We get an illustration of the point I have been making when Philip questions Jesus in today’s Gospel reading. “Lord,” Philip scolds Jesus, “show us the father and we will be happy.” And Jesus rebukes Philip, “Have I been with you so long and you don’t get my drift? He who has seen me has seen the father.” Isn’t that something. Do you think that when you look in your friend’s eyes or in your lover’s eyes, or anyone else’s eyes, you are seeing God itself? What do you think?

          And so, we breathe. Did you have anything to do with the breath that you are breathing? Do you have any control over the next breath you will take? Do you have any control over when you draw your last breath? All gift, all sheer gift. And this breathing that we have been doing for, lo, these many years: is it one bit distinct from the God who created and sustains us? The breath is our life, and this breath and this life is the life of God.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,
fill me with life anew,
that I may love the way you love,
and do what you would do.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,
until my heart is pure,
until my will is one with yours,
to do and to endure.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,
so shall I never die,
but live with you the perfect life
for all eternity.

Amen.