PROPER 13-B, August 3, 2003

A few of my clergy friends make what they like to call "cold calls" on their parishioners. Instead of calling ahead of time to schedule a visit, if they happen to be in the neighborhood and it looks like someone might be at home, they simply stop and ring the doorbell. Personally, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I know I hate it when someone rings my doorbell when I am not expecting company. My immediate reaction is that it is someone trying to sell me something. If you are like me, seeing me on your doorstep might be just a little better than seeing a salesman or worse, a Jehovah’s Witness, but not by much. So I usually don’t make cold calls on parishioners.

There is a story told about a priest who did make such cold calls. He rang the doorbell, but didn’t think he heard the ring. So he knocked on the door several times. He thought he heard someone say, "Come in. Come in." But he wasn’t sure. So he knocked again. And again he heard, "Come in. Come in." So he did, with a little fear and trepidation. All the while he kept hearing, "Come in. Come in." He didn’t see anyone, so he looked around. Over in the corner in the living room he saw a parrot. Sitting on the floor next to him was a German Shepherd.

The priest looked at the bird, who kept saying, "Come in. Come in," and said to him. "You stupid parrot. Don’t you know any other words?" The parrot looked at the dog and said, "Sic him. Sic him."

Okay, it’s a sick joke as well as a sick pun. But I think the story has a lot in common with today’s Old Testament lesson from the Book of Exodus. The whole story of the Exodus almost seems like a sick joke. Not only that, the whole story of the Jewish people -- the whole of the Old Testament -- seems, at least to an outsider, a sick joke. In the entire history of the Jewish people, beginning with the Call of Abraham all the way to the end of the Old Testament, there was very little time when things went well for the people. Most of the time they were in a mess. Yes, it was usually a mess of their own making. But if they were supposed to be God’s Chosen People, you would think that God would protect them from such messes, or at least keep them to a minimum.

But, then, the situation hasn’t change much in New Testament times either, has it? Yes, when you and I read the Old Testament, we often come away thinking that the God we find there is a God of Vengeance. When we read the New Testament, we come away believing that our God as Christians is a God of Love. And yet, often in our own lives we wonder if this God of Love is not playing some sort of cruel and sick joke on us.

We wonder about this God of Love when we see bad things happening to good people, when we experience bad things in our own lives. We wonder about this God of Love when we read about the forces of nature that wipe out and destroy peoples and lands. We wonder why a God of Love allows so much bad to happen to so many innocent people. It almost, at times, seems like a sick and cruel joke -- especially to believers.

And yet, and yet: where does it say that once we believe, life will become a piece of cake? Where does it say that once we believe, we will be free from worries and cares? Where does it say that if we believe in God, we won’t ever be hungry or thirsty or afraid again? Well, in today’s Gospel it says just that. "Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty," Jesus says at the end of today’s Gospel reading. So how come so many believers are, in fact, truly hungry and thirsty?

The problem we have, I think, is the same problem the people in today’s Old Testament reading had. They were out there in the desert, hungry, thirsty, alone, afraid. Where was this God who was supposed to protect them, keep them safe on their journey, lead them to the Promised Land? They didn’t see Him anywhere. All they saw was sand, sand and more sand when what they wanted at that moment was food, real food to fill their bellies. Their problem with their God was that they could not see past the present, immediate, bad situation: they had nothing to eat. They thought their God was playing a cruel and sick joke on them.

Our problem with our God is often the same: we, too, can’t see past the present, immediate, bad situation: the sick child, the loss of the job, the sudden death, the broken marriage, the German Shepherd: paws on our shoulders, teeth in our face. It is difficult to see any hope, to see the bright side, to look to the future, when you’re standing hip deep in a pack of alligators -- or stranded in the desert, or standing watch at a deathbed. It is difficult to see a God of Love at work at those times.

But God does not play sick jokes on us. When life itself plays those jokes, what God promises us is that He will be with us throughout it all -- in the desert, in the alligator pit, in the living room with the German Shepherd, in the hospital room -- wherever. God did not promise the Hebrew people in the desert that he would feed them a gourmet meal. And he didn’t. He promised to be with them all along the way. And He was. They may have wanted steak and potatoes. They got bread and water. It wasn’t what they wanted, but it was what they needed and it was enough.

So, too with us: God never promises us that He will answer our prayers, resolve our problems, satisfy our wants and needs exactly the way we would like them taken care of. Sometimes the only item on the menu are the words "I am here with you."

Perhaps our problem with God is that sometimes, like the Hebrew people in the desert, we simply don’t believe God or don’t have enough faith in God. In our lives there will always be those German Shepherds who want to bite our heads off for no good reason. Our faith in God won’t stop them. Sometimes we get into messes of our own making. And sometimes we are the victims of other people’s messes. Our faith in God won’t stop them either. That is called "life." The only thing we can do with life is live it.

What Jesus is promising in today’s reading, what God promised to Abraham and his descendants, what God says to us today is one and the same: "I am with you always. I am with you when the sun shines and when the tornado blows. I am with you at birth, in sickness, in health, and in death. I will never leave you alone. And I will always make sure that you have what you need."

To be sure, life may never be free from attack dogs and cruel people. It may never be free from accidents or the luck of the draw. Nevertheless, God is always with us even if we have a difficult time seeing his hand, let alone grabbing hold. In fact, it is when we are most in need -- most hungry, most thirsty, most alone, when the German Shepherd is about to bite -- it is then that God is the closest. As God did for the Hebrew people on their Exodus march through the desert, so God does for us. God will see us through, some how, some way – always. We must never, ever forget that.