Trust

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

July 2, 2023

Year A, Proper 8: The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Genesis 22:1-14

Psalm 13

Romans 6:12-23

Matthew 10:40-42

Trust

One of the quirky things I’ve noticed about Baltimore is that people are very interested in knowing what high school you attended.

I don’t know, I guess that’s true in lots of places. After all, it’s during those intense and often quite challenging high school years that we mature into adulthood – or something close to adulthood, anyway.

For many of us, it’s during those high school years that we become the people who we are.

I’ve mentioned to you before before that I spent my high school years at St. Peter’s Prep, an all-boys Roman Catholic school run by the Jesuits, the same religious order that operates Loyola Blakefield and Loyola University here in Baltimore and many other schools across the U.S. and around the world.

Growing up, it was always assumed that I would go to “Prep,” as we called it – so it was a good thing that I was admitted and, in most respects, thrived there.

I admit that math was always a perennial problem.

Prep’s most important gift to me was the opportunity to learn about, and think critically about, my faith – to reflect on how Christianity might shape my life, both as a teenager and in the years ahead.

At the heart of that religious formation was a retreat program called “Emmaus,” named after the story in the Gospel of Luke of the Risen Jesus appearing to the two disciples on the road. 

When we were juniors, we were all invited – not required - to make one of these Emmaus retreats that took place over a weekend in a wonderfully rambling old Victorian house at the Jersey Shore.

There were about twenty of us at a time, along with a few adults and some seniors who served as the retreat “team.”

At the start of my retreat, I remember being excited and nervous – glad to be spending the weekend with some of my best friends – but also wary because I was with other classmates who I didn’t know very well.

I had heard enough about the retreats to know that I would be invited to share something of myself on this weekend, and, well, like most teenage boys, I suppose, that made me uncomfortable.

Frankly, I wasn’t sure I could trust all of these guys.

The people leading the retreat knew all of that, of course, and so pretty much the first thing we did together was a literal trust exercise.

We all gathered in the big living room where we were randomly paired off. We were then asked to fall back into the arms of our partner, trusting that this kid would not drop us – would not let us fall onto the hardwood floor.

For some, this was no problem – they just threw out their arms, tilted back, and let themselves go.

But, for others, it was really hard – they would begin to lean back but would catch themselves, unwilling or unable to trust. It took several tries and lots of encouragement before they could take the plunge.

Eventually, all of us managed to do it – with lots of laughter and clapping – setting the tone of the weekend, when we would be asked to trust one another – and, in a way we might not have realized at the time – we would be asked to trust God.

It was a holy trust exercise.

In today’s Old Testament lesson, we heard one of the most famous – and also most problematic – of all Bible stories – what’s usually called “the Binding of Isaac” - a trust exercise far more demanding and costly than falling backwards into the arms of a high school classmate.

Here in church over the past couple of weeks, we’ve been hearing the story of Abraham and Sarah – the patriarch and matriarch of Israel – how God had called them to leave behind just about everyone and everything familiar and journey to a new land.

God promised that old Abraham and old Sarah would have descendants more numerous than the stars – a promise so absurd that Sarah just had to laugh.

And yet, here was Isaac – their beloved son – God’s ridiculous promise fulfilled – the child who was the future - for Abraham and Sarah and their people.

But now, Abraham hears God calling him to trust God in an even more profound and troubling way – God calls Abraham to sacrifice his greatest treasure – to sacrifice his son Isaac – trusting that God knows what God is doing – trusting that, somehow, God is not going to let go of Abraham and Isaac even when all hope seems to be lost – trusting that God is not going to let go of any of us, no matter what.

  The Binding of Isaac is a difficult and deeply troubling story.

If we didn’t know better, we would think that God is sadistic.

It’s heartbreaking when poor Isaac asks, “where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” – not realizing – never expecting – that he was to be that burnt offering!

And notice that Abraham doesn’t tell anyone what he’s going to do – not Sarah, not Isaac, not the servants – probably because Abraham knows that it wouldn’t take much to talk him out of sacrificing his precious son  – it wouldn’t take much convincing to keep him from taking this fearful plunge – it wouldn’t take much for him to not trust God.

But, Abraham remains steadfast, trusting that God is trustworthy, and so he once again steps into the terrifying unknown.

If, by some chance, this is the first time you’ve ever heard about God, the Binding of Isaac is a really horrible introduction - and I really wish that you had chosen a different Sunday for your first visit.

But, of course, this is not Abraham’s introduction to God – and it’s not our introduction to God, either.

The theologian Ellen F. Davis has strongly influenced my thinking about the Binding of Isaac. She argues that this story is meant for us who have gotten to know and love God - and yet we know that terrible things still happen to us and to those we love.

She writes, “…this harrowing story exists to help people who already believe make sense of their most difficult experience, when God seems to take back everything they have ever received at God’s hand.”

No matter what high school we attended, all of us face awful challenges and heartbreaking losses.

We endure disappointments, betrayals, estrangements, and grief.

We fear the future – as political differences and cynical politicians divide us into bitter enemies.

We fear the future - as the sky grows smoky once again.

We fear the future – as our land is plagued by gun violence, including the mass shooting just last night in South Baltimore, where 30 people were shot, and two people were killed.

But, like Abraham we know God.

Actually, we know God even better than Abraham because we know Jesus.

We know that even when the worst thing happens – when we reject God and nail him to a tree – God still does not give up on us – will never let go of us, no matter what.

And so, we can trust God.

At the end of our Emmaus retreat, each of us received a small wooden cross.

Back at school, we would wear our cross as a sign that we had made the retreat and maybe as a way of holding onto the powerful experience of faith for a little while longer.

Although I haven’t worn my cross since high school, I’ve managed to keep it with me for nearly forty years now, during all my ups and downs.

Nowadays, I keep it in a little bowl on the coffee table in my office.

It reminds me of those long ago days – of that time when I fell backwards into the arms of a classmate – of the first time I plunged into the arms of God – the God who is trustworthy – the God who has not let go of me – the God who does not let go of any of us, no matter what. 

Amen.