This sermon was preached for Sunday, February 13 at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, Wellesley. The texts for this sermon were: Jeremiah 17:5-10, 1 Corinthians 15:12-20, Luke 6:17-26, and Psalm 1.
One of the beautiful gifts of parenthood has been getting to dive back into beloved children's stories with my son. This week at morning prayer, I shared the classic story of Ferdinand the Bull by Munro Leaf. I'm sure most of you have heard it - it's been around since 1939 - but, like scripture and other great literature, there's always something new to discover.
This is a story about a very special bull. Unlike the other bulls who love buck and fight and play, all Ferdinand wants to do is sit under the cork tree and smell the flowers. Ferdinand's mother worries about him not fitting in, but the story says "because she was an understanding mother, even though she was a cow, she let him sit there and be happy."
You may remember that men from Madrid come to pick out a bull for their bullfighting spectacle. They are looking for the biggest, fastest, roughest bull, so all the other bulls spring into action, vying to be recruited. Ferdinand is mistakenly chosen, though, all because of an ill-timed bee sting. The bullfighters praise him for his rage and they hold a parade in his honor. The whole city comes out to chant his name and marvel at his size, sure he’ll make for great entertainment. But when Ferdinand enters the ring, the gentle bull sits down and refuses to fight no matter how much they try to provoke him. The matadors have no choice but to send him home. Everyone is disappointed. Everyone that is, except Ferdinand.
Jesus looked up at his disciples and said, "Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the son of man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy…"
And Jesus said, “Woe to you when all speak well of you for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.”
In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus' Beatitudes are good news for those who have found themselves on the raw end of life. Vindication is coming for the poor, the hungry, the weeping, and the ostracized. Then comes the next chunk of verses. Now these are not curses, but warnings. They are the introduction of a theme we find throughout Luke’s Gospel: be wary of prioritizing the external, temporary rewards of this life, like wealth and praise, over God’s love and grace.
“Woe to you when all speak well of you…”
The men who came from Madrid did not have Ferdinand’s best interests at heart. Neither did the crowds that packed the stadium, nor even the other bulls. They only celebrated what they wanted to see in Ferdinand, they only valued what they could use him for. The ferocity and viciousness they desired only lead one end for a bull, although that dark truth is glossed over in the children’s book.
Be wary of what others praise you for. When overdone, so much of the world rewards us for - our productivity, our compliance, our willingness to neglect parts of our lives - are precisely what lead to our undoing. If we allow those things to become all we are, we can let go of what God created us to be.
Sometimes it is the qualities about ourselves that most rub people the wrong way that are our truest, most precious gifts. Sometimes it is those obnoxious or quirky parts of ourselves that are exactly how God intends us to change the world. Our loudness, our boldness, our refusal to budge on the things that matter most.
It’s not always belligerence or assertiveness, of course. That’s what I love about the Ferdinand story. Sometimes it is our ability to remain calm that will aggravate people. Sometimes it will be because we are too sensitive, too kind, too aware of the wrongness of what’s happening around us.
Being a leader and being a follower of Christ share this in common: you are destined to tick people off. Every priest mentor I have ever had has told me in one way or another: if you aren’t angering somebody somehow, you’re not doing your job.
Jesus wants his followers to understand this. “Woe to you when all speak well of you…” It could be a sign you are running full speed down the wrong path.
Over the past month, I have had the pleasure of speaking to our high school parents about church and parenting. My favorite parts of our conversations have been when we turn to our hopes for our teens. There is so much beauty in what I heard we long for for our children.
As I listened to each parent speak, Jeremiah’s and our psalmist’s image of trees rooted in streams sprang to mind. Steadfast, fruitful trees rooted in trust in God, weathering all that comes.
Like Ferdinand’s mother, we hope that our children can be true to who they are, even when they don’t fit in. We dream that our children will know they are loved, even when they disappoint others, us, themselves. We pray that our children will ground their sense of their own value not in the shifting sands of cheering crowds or recruitment processes or peer approval, but in the rich soil of God’s love. We pray that their roots will be fed by the life-giving streams of a caring community.
When the heat and drought come, as we know they will, we imagine that they will stand tall and green. When they face exclusion, ridicule, or failure, we dare to believe that their roots will draw from resilient wells of blessing, bearing fruit to share.
Might we also dare to hope for these things for ourselves as well? What would it cost us to put these things above all else?
I hope that you feel you can be true to who you are. I dream that you know you are unconditionally loved. I pray that your integrity and authenticity will withstand the storms of public, professional, and interpersonal conflict, because you are grounded in God’s love. Because you are rooted here, in a community that holds you fast.
One of the beautiful gifts of parenthood has been getting to dive back into beloved children's stories with my son. This week at morning prayer, I shared the classic story of Ferdinand the Bull by Munro Leaf. I'm sure most of you have heard it - it's been around since 1939 - but, like scripture and other great literature, there's always something new to discover.
This is a story about a very special bull. Unlike the other bulls who love buck and fight and play, all Ferdinand wants to do is sit under the cork tree and smell the flowers. Ferdinand's mother worries about him not fitting in, but the story says "because she was an understanding mother, even though she was a cow, she let him sit there and be happy."
You may remember that men from Madrid come to pick out a bull for their bullfighting spectacle. They are looking for the biggest, fastest, roughest bull, so all the other bulls spring into action, vying to be recruited. Ferdinand is mistakenly chosen, though, all because of an ill-timed bee sting. The bullfighters praise him for his rage and they hold a parade in his honor. The whole city comes out to chant his name and marvel at his size, sure he’ll make for great entertainment. But when Ferdinand enters the ring, the gentle bull sits down and refuses to fight no matter how much they try to provoke him. The matadors have no choice but to send him home. Everyone is disappointed. Everyone that is, except Ferdinand.
Jesus looked up at his disciples and said, "Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the son of man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy…"
And Jesus said, “Woe to you when all speak well of you for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.”
In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus' Beatitudes are good news for those who have found themselves on the raw end of life. Vindication is coming for the poor, the hungry, the weeping, and the ostracized. Then comes the next chunk of verses. Now these are not curses, but warnings. They are the introduction of a theme we find throughout Luke’s Gospel: be wary of prioritizing the external, temporary rewards of this life, like wealth and praise, over God’s love and grace.
“Woe to you when all speak well of you…”
The men who came from Madrid did not have Ferdinand’s best interests at heart. Neither did the crowds that packed the stadium, nor even the other bulls. They only celebrated what they wanted to see in Ferdinand, they only valued what they could use him for. The ferocity and viciousness they desired only lead one end for a bull, although that dark truth is glossed over in the children’s book.
Be wary of what others praise you for. When overdone, so much of the world rewards us for - our productivity, our compliance, our willingness to neglect parts of our lives - are precisely what lead to our undoing. If we allow those things to become all we are, we can let go of what God created us to be.
Sometimes it is the qualities about ourselves that most rub people the wrong way that are our truest, most precious gifts. Sometimes it is those obnoxious or quirky parts of ourselves that are exactly how God intends us to change the world. Our loudness, our boldness, our refusal to budge on the things that matter most.
It’s not always belligerence or assertiveness, of course. That’s what I love about the Ferdinand story. Sometimes it is our ability to remain calm that will aggravate people. Sometimes it will be because we are too sensitive, too kind, too aware of the wrongness of what’s happening around us.
Being a leader and being a follower of Christ share this in common: you are destined to tick people off. Every priest mentor I have ever had has told me in one way or another: if you aren’t angering somebody somehow, you’re not doing your job.
Jesus wants his followers to understand this. “Woe to you when all speak well of you…” It could be a sign you are running full speed down the wrong path.
Over the past month, I have had the pleasure of speaking to our high school parents about church and parenting. My favorite parts of our conversations have been when we turn to our hopes for our teens. There is so much beauty in what I heard we long for for our children.
As I listened to each parent speak, Jeremiah’s and our psalmist’s image of trees rooted in streams sprang to mind. Steadfast, fruitful trees rooted in trust in God, weathering all that comes.
Like Ferdinand’s mother, we hope that our children can be true to who they are, even when they don’t fit in. We dream that our children will know they are loved, even when they disappoint others, us, themselves. We pray that our children will ground their sense of their own value not in the shifting sands of cheering crowds or recruitment processes or peer approval, but in the rich soil of God’s love. We pray that their roots will be fed by the life-giving streams of a caring community.
When the heat and drought come, as we know they will, we imagine that they will stand tall and green. When they face exclusion, ridicule, or failure, we dare to believe that their roots will draw from resilient wells of blessing, bearing fruit to share.
Might we also dare to hope for these things for ourselves as well? What would it cost us to put these things above all else?
I hope that you feel you can be true to who you are. I dream that you know you are unconditionally loved. I pray that your integrity and authenticity will withstand the storms of public, professional, and interpersonal conflict, because you are grounded in God’s love. Because you are rooted here, in a community that holds you fast.
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