Sunrise

Wednesday, November 4, 2020         Memorial of Saint Charles Borromeo

(today’s lectionary)

Sunrise

This morning I’m taking a deep breath and diving in. On Tuesday morning the election results were not yet known, and they probably won’t be known today either. On either day the long view remembers that the sun also rises and the rain falls on just and unjust, and to the Lord, our thousand years is like a day. Sit under the tree, feel the sun on your feet, and have a Corona.

Right?

God is the one who for his Good Purpose works in you both to desire and to work. Do everything with No Grumbling or dissent, allow God to keep you blameless and innocent.

OK. Now I need to take another deep breath. As fast as I can type those beautiful words that Paul wrote from prison to his loved ones, I’ve stopped breathing, my mind flies around to my own problems and the problems of the country, my own uncertainties and emotional paralysis, Margaret’s, our kids, our grandkids, the homeless guy we saw for the first time yesterday, the restaurant servers with much less to do this week than last, and my friend with cancer. Actually, make that friends, there is more than one.

Work out your salvation with fear and trembling. God’s children are free from blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation. Among them you shine like lights in the world as you hold on to the word of life.

It is easy for us to screw that up, especially when we start judging anyone other than ourselves. St. Augustine wrote about the Donatists, a group of 4^th century folks who did a lot of that: “The clouds roll with thunder, that the house of the Lord shall be built throughout the earth, and these frogs sit in their marsh and croak, ‘We are the only Christians!’”

God does Not screw it up. Jack Hayford told me (and thousands of others on the radio) on my green tractor one spring day that we can ask freely for what we think we want, because God will always give us bread, not stones.

The sun rises above our backyard trees, which are still full of leaves. A squirrel hangs on upside down and tears off a kernel of corn from an ear suspended three feet above the ground. He carries it in his mouth to the ground, where he sits awhile and chews. Then he climbs up to get another one. By this afternoon the cob will be clean.

At no time in his day does the squirrel wonder if there will be another ear of corn tomorrow. The squirrels have other problems, but not that one. I, on the other hand, have a cupboard laden with food in cans and boxes and bags, just in case.

I believe that I shall see the bounty of the Lord in the land of the living. I will wait for the Lord, be courageous and wait for the Lord.

St. Charles Borromeo didn’t live long, but he filled his 46 years with persistence and generosity. He persuaded the pope to reopen the Council of Trent after 10 years, and kept up all the correspondence. Then in 1576 the Plague devastated Rome with starvation and sickness. Most of the civil authorities fled for their lives, but Bishop Charles borrowed large sums of money to feed 60,000 to 70,000 people every day. It took the rest of his life to pay it back.

The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is the refuge of my life, of whom should I be afraid?

We don’t seem to be ready to leave the land of insecurity and insurance anytime soon. That doesn’t mean I can’t try. Take a deep breath and wait for the Lord. I didn’t turn the TV on last night, and I’m not sure I will today. The sun is rising over the trees in our back yard.

Great crowds were traveling with Jesus.

Yeah, let’s go with them. I want what they’re having. They have chosen the right way to spend their time. Jesus will speak, demand the best of them, and he will give them bread. And then again, the next day, the sun will rise.

(Philippians 2, Psalm 27, 1 Peter 4, Luke 14)

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