Attempts at Light

Celebrate the have-nots;

they own the Vision of God.

Celebrate the brokenhearted;

they will be comforted.

Celebrate the humble;

they will inherit the land.

Celebrate those who hunger for justice and thirst for mercy;

they will be invited to the Banquet.

Celebrate the merciful;

mercy will be shown to them.

Celebrate the passionately committed;

God will be revealed to them.

Celebrate those who build community;

they will be known as God’s children.

Celebrate those who are not treated with justice or mercy;

they own the Vision of God.

The wounded and risen Jesus

has left the building.

He comes into your upper room

and shelters in place with you.

The wounded and risen Jesus

comes to you workers

in the grocery store, in the pharmacy,

even at the drive-through.

The wounded and risen Jesus

comes to you in the hospital ICU,

to you aides and janitors, nurses and doctors.

The wounded and risen Jesus

knows your risks

and feels your concern for the sick.

The wounded and risen Jesus

enters the isolation

where you lie on white beds

with tubes in your noses

and masks covering your heads.

The wounded and risen Jesus

knows how it feels to gasp for breath.

The wounded and risen Jesus knows death.

The wounded and risen Jesus

knows what it is like to feel alone.

He cried out with you,

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

You are not alone.

The wounded and risen Jesus

will still be here when this is gone.

When I lived in Chicago, my son came home from college and asked me to go with him to the Green Mill in Uptown to listen to improvisational jazz. A friend of his was playing tenor saxophone in the band. We arrived early to get a good seat. I was seated next to an older man who told me he used to play the trumpet, but now, because of his health problems, he could only come out and listen. By the time the band came in, the room was crowded.

The piano player started the set by playing a simple melody that we all knew: “Amazing Grace.” I whispered to my son, Sean, that I felt as if I were in my home church in West Virginia. Sean said, “There is a stained glass window too, but it says It’s Miller Time.”

Soon the drummer came in to provide a background beat, and the piano player began to take the old song in a new but sacred direction. And then the muted trumpet, the guitar, and the tenor saxophone joined in the mix. There was no sheet music; they were playing off one another. They were creating a beautiful piece of music by intensely listening, and by listening they figured out where they could join in the creation or where they could step back and let another shine. The band would quiet down and each instrument would do a solo, taking the band in some meaningful direction, and then the other instruments would move into the piece and together create something new and moving.

The end came when the piano player moved from the beautiful and complicated place to which they had come together and picked up where he’d started off, with the simple tune of “Amazing Grace.” When he stopped, there was silence in this crowded bar. It seemed like a long time, but it was probably only a few seconds. The silence was broken by the old man: “That’s righteous!” Then the place was up for grabs.

This is what I would like to see the church become—each person a soloist in her or his own right, and each one bringing his or her solo gift and experience together with the others to create something new and beautiful.

I have used my interpretation of the story of King Arthur for several years. Recently, Matthew Rasure, the pastor of the First Baptist Church of Medford, the treasurer of the Conference of Baptist Ministers in Massachusetts, and my friend, rewrote the story for a sermon. I love what he did with my story, and I love the work of collaboration on stories or sermons and other writings.

Once upon a time, there was no peace in the land. War, hunger, and sickness had raged for years on end. The court adviser, Merlin, told King Arthur about an ancient prophecy that if he could find the Holy Grail, then all war, hunger, and sickness would end. The vessel that held the very life of God could bring peace to the land. Years before, a pilgrim had returned from Jerusalem with the grail in hand, and hid it somewhere in the land, but he died before he could disclose its resting place.

They needed to find the grail. The king built a large round table in his court and called knights from all the tribes to come together. The knights were women and men, young and old, representing all the diversity of the kingdom. Even King Arthur came down from his throne and sat at the round table with them. He gave them their mission: to find the vessel that held the very life of God.

So they went out on a quest for the Holy Grail. They went through cities and villages on their quest. When they saw people hungry, they shared a bit of their food. When they saw people sick, they shared their remedy. When they saw people hurting, they shared their comfort.

The knights would come together once a week, gather around their table, tell their stories, and sing their songs of seeking the vessel that held the very life of God.

After many years, the work of the search continued on. The knights circled the country time and time again. Eventually, they came to know every corner of the land. They knew the people of the land, but the land looked and felt different. Feeding the hungry, comforting the sick, lifting up