The Ultimate Ultimate Thing

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

July 14, 2024

Year B, Proper 10: The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19

Psalm 24

Ephesians 1:3-14

Mark 6:14-29

The Ultimate Ultimate Thing

As you know, because I’ve mentioned it like a thousand times, I grew up and lived most of my life in Jersey City, a medium-sized city just across the Hudson River from Manhattan.

And, while I try to project a tough, gritty, urban image, the truth is that I grew up in a neighborhood called… Country Village.

Country Village doesn’t sound like a very tough place. And it’s not.

Country Village was built in the early 1960s and was designed to be a little island of suburbia in the city, a way of convincing at least some people not to flee the city.

So, there are curving streets named for different kinds of trees, winding along a mix of standalone homes and rowhouses.

Actually, my old neighborhood looks a bit like Rodgers Forge, over in Towson.

Anyway, growing up in Country Village back in the 1970’s and early 80’s wasn’t perfect, of course, but it was pretty peaceful. And, looking back now, fifty years later, it seems downright old fashioned, even idyllic.

All of us kids walked back and forth to school.

In good weather, we rode our bikes through the neighborhood.

And during long and carefree summer days we played ball right out in the middle of the street, yelling out “Car! Car!’ when the occasional driver needed to interrupt our game.

Our parents would call us into the house for supper and, later, called us again to wrap it up when it began to grow dark.

I mention all this because almost two weeks ago, at the start of my second week of vacation, I returned to Country Village to pick up my parents – they still live in the house where my sister and I grew up - and bring them down here to stay with Sue and me for the rest of the week.

And on a perfect summer day, not very hot or humid at all, the kind of day that fifty years ago there would have been a bunch of kids out in that street yelling “Car!” when I turned the corner, on a day just like that, there wasn’t a soul outside. 

I wasn’t surprised – it’s been like this for years – but I wondered:

Where were all the neighborhood children?

Well, we probably know the answer, right?

I’m sure that most of them were inside their houses, inside their rooms, their eyes glued to computers, tablets, or phones.

 

None of this news – and it’s not limited to kids, either.

Our whole society seems designed to keep us distracted.

I mean, almost of all of us carry around little distraction machines in our pockets or purses, buzzing and pinging throughout the day and night.

Our attention spans have been ruined.

(I used to preach for half an hour!)

And we are distracted from what is most important – distracted from ultimate things.

In some ways, with our ability to constantly connect and scroll, this is a new problem.

But it’s also an old human story – we want to distract ourselves from ultimate things – to distract ourselves from God – distract ourselves from the wrong we may have done or the wrong done in our name – distract ourselves from the simple but hard truth that no one gets out of here alive.

Back in the first century, Herod Antipas was a member of a truly depraved royal family, who ruled parts of Israel, at the pleasure of the Romans.

His father, Herod the Great, so called, was the king who tried to use the Wise Men to find and kill the newborn King of the Jews – and when that didn’t work, he just slaughtered all the children born in Bethlehem around that time.

So you get the idea.

Herod Antipas was a chip off the old block, a great builder but also ruthless, taking whatever he wanted, including marrying his brother’s wife.

The firebrand prophet John the Baptist criticized Herod for that, infuriating the wife, and leading to the tragedy we heard today.

The royal birthday party was nothing more than a lavish distraction, a distraction that led to an ill-considered promise to give the dancing daughter whatever she wanted, a distraction that led to the gruesome death of the righteous John the Baptist.

No doubt, Herod went right on distracting himself with all the trappings of royal life and power, but those distractions don’t work forever.

And later, when the Righteous Jesus appears on the scene, did you hear the dread in Herod’s voice when he thinks that the spirit of John the Baptist has returned?

Ultimate Things.

        Yesterday evening we were all reminded, yet again, that we live in a country that is angry, violent, and seemingly so divided. 

        Seemingly so divided that, honestly, I hesitate to say anything about it.

        I will say that those distraction machines in our pockets aren’t helping matters.

        Since we really don’t know each other anymore, we assume the worst of each other.

        And our distraction machines and much of cable news deliberately misinform us and work really hard to keep us frightened, angry, and divided.

        Aside from switching the channel, I have no idea what to do about this.

        But I do know that it’s good for us to be part of a church, how blessed we are to be part of this church.

This is one of the few remaining places where we spend time – meaningful time – with people who are different than us – who come from different places, who have different ideas about all kinds of things – and yet we can and do pray and serve together – we can and do love one another – we can be, and often are, instruments of God’s peace.

And it’s probably not a coincidence that this is one of the few remaining places where we put away our phones. 

Well, most of us, anyway.

One of our newer parishioners has spoken about what a gift that is – to be here free of electronic distractions for an hour or so.

And I would add that another blessing of our distraction-free church is that it gets us thinking about ultimate things.

Why are we here?

What is our purpose?

And what happens after we die?

At a vestry meeting a while back, when I first mentioned the idea of offering an opportunity for parishioners to plan their funerals, there was some nervous laughter, and I got some strange looks.

Of course, I get that planning our funerals can seem morbid – it’s probably the last thing anyone wants to think about.

But, as I’ve mentioned to you, over the years I’ve sat with many grieving families who had no idea what their deceased loved one might have wanted – and so, anxiety and guilt and stress compound their grief.

And I’ve been really gratified by how positive – I know this sounds strange – how excited – so many of you have been about today’s event.

In fact, last week, one couple stopped by the office to purchase their cemetery plot.

They said they wanted to “beat the rush!”

I’d like to think the part of the reason why so many of us have been willing to look ahead and plan our funerals is that those of us who regularly attend church have a lot of practice in thinking about ultimate things.

Acknowledging our mortality isn’t overwhelming because we know the ultimate ultimate thing.

And no matter the violence, anger, and division all around us, we do not lose heart – we stick together - because we know the ultimate ultimate thing:

In our baptism, God has made an indissoluble, unbreakable, bond with us.

This holy bond of love is stronger than anything.

        Stronger than tyrants like Herod.

        Stronger than the sharpest blade, the most destructive bullet.

        And, because Jesus Christ is risen, we know that God’s holy bond with us is stronger than hate, stronger than anger, stronger than fear, stronger than death itself.

        God's holy and unbreakable bond with us is the ultimate ultimate thing.

        Amen.