Preacher: The Rev. Doyt L. Conn
The line it is drawn
And the curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin’
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin’
Maybe you have heard that song before. I pray if you had, it was a better listening experience. It is the song that launched Bob Dylan and set him as an icon and spokesman for the changes that took place in the 1960s. The question I’ll lead with this morning is how is Bob Dylan’s Times are a Changing related to Handel’s Halleluiah Chorus? That is the riddle we’ll wrestle with today. It is a riddle that unveils a great intimacy, I believe, that is coming upon us.
I believe a time is opening in front of us where barriers are coming down, veils are being lifted, and the gates of heaven are swinging open, beckoning us to come through. For some of us, this will feel like an invasion. For some of us, this will feel like a visitation. For some of us, this will sound crazy. And for others of us, it will sound like an invitation, and I hope that is the case for you.
Let me open our riddle by telling you a story of something that happened to me the other day. It was my day off: Monday. Margaret and Desmond were both home after school. Both were studying—one under protest. It was one of those days when I wasn’t my most patient self. I was rushed. I had two meetings that evening, so I changed into my priest clothes, and when I went to put on my black shoes, I found that one of the shoelaces was missing. How does that happen? Now, I was going to be late. So I chased Desmond into the car, and after dropping him off at Boychoir, I swung in at Walgreens in the U-District to buy shoelaces.
As I strode across the parking lot toward the door, a man loitering there sort of stepped in front of me. As he did, his three companions took a few steps away, like my presence was a magnet that repelled them. But not this guy. He took a step toward me. He was broad as a barn and short, like five-seven, with an open face, a well-trimmed beard, and a tattoo of eagle’s wings draped off the corner of his eye. He just looked at me. My impulse was to put up my hands and say “I’m in a hurry” and rush by him. I know how to do that. I’ve done it before. But instead I paused; maybe it was because I was wearing my collar, and I didn’t want to be one more reason why Christianity has a bad rap. And when I hesitated, he reached out to shake my hand. So I took it. It was warm and dry, and he held onto my hand for a period longer than a polite handshake requires. He held it firmly and looked me full in the face and asked, “Why is God angry with me?”
Our hands dropped apart, and I replied, “I’m not so sure God is angry with you. I’d sort of take a different view. I imagine that God loves you, is with you, and pretty pleased to be in your presence.” He smiled. I continued, “Sometimes we get in the way of ourselves, and this makes us wonder where God is when God is really right here.” He smiled again as he turned to invite his friends over so they could hear the good news. They were reluctant to get close to me. I asked the man with the drooping eagle wings what his name was, and he said Vern. A moment passed. Vern’s friends were eager to move on. But before he joined them Vern put out his arms to hug me, so I obliged, and as I hugged him, he reached up and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I was startled, to say the least, and as I jumped back, he apologized. I said, “No, no that’s OK.” In truth it was just like the kiss of peace that is often b passed right here in church. As I went into Walgreens, though, I checked my pockets. I am a bit ashamed about that, but I did.
But that is not the weird part of the story. You see there was a smell. A clean, fresh, inviting smell, like a flower or a grove of trees after a rain shower, and it lingered as I looked for the shoelaces, and as I returned to the car that smell stayed with me as if to force my mind to consider the encounter over and over again. Which I wasn’t sure I wanted to. So when I got to the car I did what I always do, I went to put in my ear buds to make a telephone call. And when I did I heard-
The line it is drawn
And the curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin’
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin’
The iTunes app was clearly on, and the shuffle was engaged, because as Dylan faded I heard: Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, and Alleluia. And the smell of Vern just lingered there.
And I thought, “What’s going on?”
Maybe you have had an experience like this; where a cascade of occurrences gave you cause to consider your place in the universe? And more so, to wonder about mystery and visitations and the presence of God. It is sort of like being thrust instantly into a place of deep prayer, without being given the choice just thrust into this place of profound metaphysical consideration where your soul comes front and center into your consciousness. And this might seem like an invasion. Or it might seem like a visitation, but either way know that it is an invitation, as crazy as that may sound. And when this happens stop and pay attention.
Which is what I did. I sat there in the car and re-listened to the sequence of Dylan and Handel. The next day I told my wife what happened and then my preaching team, and then I returned to the incident in my own prayers. I asked the Lord: “How are times changing?” And the answer wasn’t a new building at Epiphany, or changing service times. The answer wasn’t dropping oil prices or a repeat at the Super Bowl. The answer was that the barriers were coming down, and veils are being lifted, and the gates of heaven are swinging open, beckoning us, beckoning us to consider what is important, and beckoning us to consider our life with God.
Here is how I know, because of the knowledge of my secret sin. When I go out in the world with my dark suit and priest collar I stand as a representative more of power and privilege and secrets and authority, than I do for the grace and love of Jesus Christ. That is the history of the church and my profession and I just know this to be true; and the sin of it is that at times I capitalize on this reality. I saw it in the eyes of Vern’s friends as they fled from my presence just as I knew they would. But times are a changin’. Vern not only stood in my way and held my hand, and hugged me, and gave me the kiss of peace, but he lingered on in a way that caused me to ask the question, how are things a changin’?
This brings me to Nathaniel. It is no accident this is our Gospel reading today. It is about changing times. It is about changing ways of seeing things. It is about changing, or shall I say setting aside prejudices so we can better know God.
There Nathaniel was, under the fig tree. Philip came along and said that the Messiah had arrived, Jesus, the Son of Joseph, from Nazareth. To which Nathaniel replied: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” To which Philip responded: “Come and see. Come and see.” That was the invitation. It is the action, the response to the barriers coming down, the veils being lifted, the gates of heaven being thrown open. Come and see Jesus. Nazareth was the barrier. It was the tattooed eagle’s wings, the rough looking friends, the homeless veneer, and the priest’s collar that got in the way. Nothing good can come out of Nazareth. Really? Maybe? What is Nazareth to you? What is your Nazareth?
Nazareth is the dividing line- there is always a dividing line that we believe keeps us safe. But in the kingdom of God there are no barriers, there are no dividing lines, and there are no walls. There are not insiders or outsiders. God is everywhere.
Jesus said to Nathaniel, “I saw you under the fig tree.” This impressed Nathaniel. It seemed a big thing to him that he was noticed by Jesus when he didn’t even see Jesus in the first place. But what seemed like a big thing to Nathaniel was quickly right-sized by Jesus, “Do you believe I am the Son of God because I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these. Truly I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” You will see the heavens opening.
As I thought about the heavens opening and angels ascending and descending, I thought again about Vern, and the smell returned as my mind wandered to C.S. Lewis and his Chronicles of Narnia. And how every time Aslan was present there was this smell, this beautiful fragrance that wafted in his wake. And my soul wandered back to the Feast of Epiphany and the flames of fire that took such an angelic shape. I thought our slogan “Surely the Lord is in this place / this is none other than the house of God.” And how you responded with “Alleluia Amen.” So all of this was gathered in my heart and inspired me to go back to Genesis 28 and re-read our slogan “Surely the Lord is in this place / this is none other than the house of God.” And the sentence that followed upon this passage read: “and this is the gate of heaven.”
I do wonder about Epiphany, and if this place where we pray and praise God isn’t a rather thin place. Maybe it is a threshold, an antechamber, or a gate that is now swung open. This is where we can see angel’s ascending and descending; Jesus suggests to Nathaniel that it is not only possible but inevitable.
There is an intimacy coming upon us, it is an intimacy that reveals God’s love for us; like a kiss of peace, startling and beautiful. There are signs. Signs we share. Signs you see. Signs I tell you about as they flash through my life, for I believe we are becoming more intimately and deeply linked to a space just a bit bigger than our imaginations or logical minds can link together.
It is called the Kingdom of God. The barriers are collapsing. The times are a changin’. And I agree with Handel: Alleluia, Amen!