Help in the Time of our Need
A sermon based on Hebrews 4:12-16
By Rev. Randy Quinn

I had been asked to pray at the Change of Command ceremony for two Navy Reserve units last weekend.  They were both held on Saturday.  One was at 1:00 and the other at 3:00 in the same building.  I agreed.  That is, after all, a part of my job as a Navy Reserve Chaplain.

I've prayed at these kinds of functions in the past.  In fact, I've prayed in a lot of circumstances before.  This should've been a rather simple event.  And since the total attendance at the first one was around 50, there was no real fear on my part of being in front of and addressing the group.  I speak to that many people most Sundays.  I've spoken to much, much larger groups in the past.

So there I was, wearing my Dress Blues, standing at the podium as I began the invocation.  I looked around and saw all of the ceremonial equipment:  the flags, the color guard, the officers wearing their gloves and swords, the side-boys who rendered honors as the guest speaker arrived, the ship's bell that was struck to signal the arrival of senior officers.

This ceremony represents Naval Tradition at its best, and I was a part of it.

And then I detected a quiver in my voice.  I realized my knees were shaking.  I began to speak faster.  I stumbled over words.  I lost my place.  And I couldn't wait to sit down again.

What had happened, I thought?  As I said, this was not an unfamiliar setting.  I've been here before.  I've prayed before -- not just here, but in other places.  I'd even prayed that morning.  Why was I so nervous?

At the next Change of Command, I found myself before an even larger crowd with just as much ceremonial dignity.  And I wasn't nervous at all.

Again I began to wonder why.  What was the difference between these two celebrations?  Why was one so difficult for me and the other so natural?

Then I realized what had happened.  ­The Commanding Officers and Guest Speakers were different.  At the first Change of Command, I had an Admiral sitting directly behind me with three Navy Captains sitting with him.  At the second one, there was a Captain and three Commanders.  It seems as though I had been intimidated by their rank. 

One year during my Annual Training with the Navy Reserves, I met with and spent some time with Rear Admiral Stewart.  Admiral Stewart was the senior Navy Reserve Chaplain at the time; he has since retired.

I remembered being very nervous in his company at first.  But he immediately put me at ease with his stories and frustrations about becoming an Admiral.  He hated the reverence that was given to him because of his rank.  He was frustrated by the fact that the Navy thought he couldn't drive any longer and always provided him with a car and driver.  He didn't like it when people were called to attention to offer a salute whenever he entered a room.

His comments reminded me of the comments that Bishop McConnell made at Annual Conference when Bishop Tuell retired.  He suggested that Jack Tuell would have a first name again in retirement (though I suspect that anyone who knows him as a bishop will continue to call him Bishop.)

Somehow, in our society, when someone gets to a certain level of leadership, they lose their humanity.  They become something else and we change the way we treat them, the way we respond to them, even the way we feel around them.

Several times in the past few years, I have seen the President at a news conference with a former president at his side.  Bill Clinton with Jimmy Carter; George Bush with his father; Barak Obama with Bill Clinton.  What I’ve been struck by in those settings is that both men are referred to as "Mr President."  I wondered if they didn't get confused by having two "Mr Presidents" in the same room at the same time.

I don't know if there is anyone in your life that evokes that feeling of intimidation.  Maybe your boss.  Maybe your spouse.  Maybe your mother-in-law.  Perhaps an ex-spouse.

What is it about these people:  Admirals, Bishops, and Presidents, that makes us put them up on such a high pedestal?  Why do they intimidate us so?  Or more to the point, if we give such respect to mortals, what do we call God?

In his book, Beginning to Pray, Anthony Bloom reminds us that "a meeting face to face with God is always a moment of judgment for us" (p 27).  My fear last Saturday should have been in connection with invoking the name of God, not the fact that an Admiral was present.

The ancient Israelites understood this concept well.  The temple helped reinforce their understanding.  The temple was set up with areas - courtyards - that became more and more restric­tive as you approached the inner sanctuary.  There was the court for the gentiles, the non-Jews, who might want to come and worship.  There was the court for women.  There was the court for men.  There was an area inside for the Levites, who were the caretakers of the temple.  And there was the area restricted to Priests.

And inside the area for the Priests was the "Holy of Holies" where God alone could enter.  Once a year one of the Priests would be selected to enter that holiest of spaces.  He would first make offerings for himself.  It was under­stood that the sin offerings he made would allow him to enter into the presence of God without fear of judgment because the offering had taken away his sin -- at least for the moment.

I personally cannot imagine what it would've been like to be chosen as the High Priest and enter the Holy of Holies.  I think I would be tongue-tied, cotton-mouthed, and would stumble and fall on my way in as well as on my way out.  I can't imagine how I would ever be able to speak a single word in the very presence of God.

Yet we have already done that here this morning.  We did so with little fanfare, with little regard for the significance of our actions.  We have come into the presence of God without fear, without trembling, without awe.

Some might say it's because we're too secular, too sacrilegious.  "It's because we don't understand who God is or what it means for anything to be sacred, not even God."

If that be the case, we need more than anything to confess our sin and to ask for God's forgiveness.

I prefer to think, however, that we have done so because of what Jesus has taught us and has done for us.  I don't think I'm skirting the issue, I sincerely believe that one of the most important things that Jesus has done for us is to boldly bring us into the presence of God.

In this passage from Hebrews, we read one explanation of how that can be.  It is here that we learn that Jesus is the Great High Priest who has entered into the Holy of Holies on our behalf so that we can "approach the throne of grace with boldness" (v 16).

The word of God, the voice of God that causes prophets, priests, saints and sinners to shudder, has spoken words of judgment.  And from that judgment there is no place to hide.  We will be found out.

But thanks be to God that Jesus has come to offer a word of grace and reconciliation so that we might approach God with confidence, the confidence of children going before their parents.

In his book, The Manger is Empty (Harper & Row, 1989), Walter Wangerin tells the story of how he learned this lesson when he was about thirteen years old.  His father was the President of a small college in Canada.

For fun, Wally used to throw rocks at the stadium lights -- despite his father's stern warnings not to do so.  When he finally threw the perfect rock, it broke the stadium's very expensive 6,000 watt bulbs.

Rather than face the wrath of the college president, Wally lived in fear of being caught.  The fear grew to the point where he was afraid to be with his father.

When he finally confessed his sin, Wally was prepared for the worst imaginable punishment.  His surprise was the loving the embrace of a father who had missed his son and was glad to be in his presence again.

I believe the church faces a dilemma.  We generally respond in one of two ways.  The dilemma is how to conceive of God.  The answer generally is as a righteous, powerful judge who brings fear and trembling -- or -- a wonderful, kind and loving friend who brings comfort and joy.

My concern is that both are true.  And to the extent that we ignore either of them we have failed to fully comprehend both the good news and its implication for us.

You see, it's true that whenever we come before God, whenever we call upon God, whenever we gather in the name of God that the almighty and powerful creator and judge of the universe will respond.  And if it were not for the saving work of Jesus we would be cast away, rejected, and punished.

The author of Hebrews depicts this truth in images that recall for his intended audience the Jewish temple along with its traditions and customs.

We may not fully comprehend those customs.  We may not recognize the powerful impact these images had on its original audience.  But we CAN see the truth as it applies to us:  because of Jesus, the Great High Priest, we are given free access to the God of creation.

We have received a precious gift.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.