“Radical Cheek”

If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also.                                                                                                                        Matthew 5:39b

“Are you happy now?”

That was basically the judge’s message to Megan Rice ‒ an 84 year-old nun ‒ and her two accomplices. All three, peace activists. Each slapped with a three-year jail sentence.

Their crime? In 2012, they broke into and vandalized a bunker at the Y-12 National Security Complex in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. Holding the nation’s primary supply of bomb-grade uranium, the facility is known as the “Fort Knox of Uranium.”

Why did they do it? They were worked up over the close-to six-hundred billion-dollar defense budget ─ billions of which the activists believed could be diverted to improve the standard of living of the average American and our poorest citizens, in particular.

Now, we could wrangle over the “rightness” of the break-in, as well as its effectiveness. For example, I’m not convinced about the vandalism: splashing bottles of blood on a bunker holding bomb-grade uranium.

But dig deeper into the activists' motives and you get Michael Walli, convicted along with Megan Rice, telling the judge, “I was acting upon my God-given obligations as a follower of Jesus Christ.”

That may be true, even exemplary. But did the activists think they would get away with it? No. They cut wires that set off alarms. They had time to vandalize the bunker, sit down, sing hymns, pray together … inside the facility. Two hours after the alarms first went off ─ two hours ─ security guards finally arrived and arrested the trio.

Heads rolled after that. And it wasn’t the heads of the activists.

Fact is: Megan Rice and her team started out that evening expecting to break into the Y-12 complex. They expected to be caught. They expected to be convicted. They expected to be punished. And at their trial, they dared the judge to slap them with harsh sentences.

As a matter of fact, Rice challenged the judge to sentence her to life in prison, even though sentencing guidelines called for far less: six years. “Please, have no leniency with me,” she argued.

So, Rice’s sentence? She expected six years’ confinement. Pleaded for a life sentence. Got three years.

But that plea for a life sentence: At 84, does that sound like a person who wants to be happy to the end of her days? On the one hand, incarceration for a cause … on the other, happiness.

Well, it sounds exactly like the type of person Jesus hopes each of his followers will be when he tells them:

“If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also.

“If anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well.

“If anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile.”

And we are left to wonder, Is Jesus suggesting that our primary pursuit shouldn’t be the pursuit of happiness? … because, I don’t know about you, but I would rather not get sucker-punched in the face. Period. But, given Jesus’ limited options of one or two black eyes, I’d be happier with just one.

I would rather not get sued and lose in court. But, losing my shirt … or losing my shirt along with (I think Jesus is saying here, more or less) my shorts? I’d be happier losing just my shirt.

And the one-mile/two-mile option? Factoid: A Roman soldier ─ presumably on foot himself ─ had the right to press you into carrying his heavy armor for up to one mile along the dusty roads of Palestine.

So, I’d rather not get coerced into carrying the armor at all. But, given only Jesus’ two choices, I’d be happier being forced to lug it one mile … rather than two.

And I’d really like to keep the cash burning a hole in my pocket to myself. But I’d be happier giving a buck to one panhandler … rather than shelling out one-buck-after-another to every panhandler in the hand-out gauntlet, otherwise known as Downtown Crossing.

And when Jesus talks about loving friends and enemies? My hunch is that ‒ outside of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, these days ‒ few mentally-healthy people talk about being dogged by personal enemies. And yet, I’d be happier hanging out with my friends … while giving myself full license to avoid the Dementors who delight in sucking the very life out of me!

Bottomline: When Jesus finally talks about being “perfect” ─ as perfect as God!?! ─ I’d rather be happy than perfect … if “perfect” means sustaining a string of black eyes … submitting to a slew of indignities … and losing it all by giving it all away to people who may or may not be the “deserving poor.”

Read: Happiness might be possible … if happiness were the point. But it isn’t. At least, it isn’t in Jesus’ book. What is the point? What does Jesus think we should be in pursuit of?

Answer: Meaning. Purpose. Perfection ‒ not as in moral purity, but the experience of a life that is complete. Fully-developed in God’s eyes. Nothing missing. No essential parts ─ like expansive awareness, widened charity, laser-like commitment ─ nothing of God’s very essence left out.

It’s a life whose key mark is justice: pursuing what we are owed as persons created in the image of God … making sure our neighbors get ─ from us ─ from the system we support ─ what they are owed.

And, at a very minimum, what are we all owed? Dignity.

For example, in Megan Rice’s case, securing dignity means seeing that all God’s children are raised in secure homes and communities free from the threat of war. No child ─ no person ─ a victim.

Complication: Asking for a life sentence, when six years will do, in Megan Rice’s case … or submitting to an extra black eye on top of the first, the way Jesus puts it: Looks like voluntary victimization. What does that have to do with human dignity?

Most days we'd say, absolutely nothing. And yet, Jesus’ audience might look at it differently.

That’s because they live in a “shame culture.” In a shame culture, you put a lot of effort into maintaining your “honor” ─ saving face ─ in your community.

Now, in Roman-occupied Palestine, who’s likely to slug you? A Roman soldier. Let’s say this soldier were to slug you on the right side of your face. (As will soon be obvious, Jesus specifies the right cheek as the target to make a teaching point.) If the soldier hauls off with his left fist ─ which would be natural against a victim’s right cheek ─ in that culture, he’s dealing the blow shamefully.

That is ‒ and as a leftie (on so many levels), I object ‒ as we’ve learned on many other occasions, to Jesus’ audience, the left hand is bad karma. Why? Well, before Charmin came along (and those cutesy bears doing in the woods what bears do), personal hygiene was different. And you want to save one hand ─ the usually-dominant right hand ─ for “clean” activities (like preparing food, eating, and carrying out religious rites).

So, to punch you on your right cheek with his left hand? Literally, fighting dirty, the attacker brings shame on himself.

To get his licks in without being shamed, the attacker must use the back of his right hand to slap your right cheek. Who were the people most likely to be back-handed? Slaves, women, and other persons considered somehow “lesser” than this Roman soldier.

So ─ back-handing you ─ not only is your attacker hurting you physically, he’s robbing you of your dignity. You are lesser-than. You are subhuman.

But Jesus indicates the soldier can rob you of your dignity only if you let him. Read: To re-assert your dignity, Jesus says, “Recover. Stand up straight. Offer your left cheek for another glancing blow ─ not as the attacker’s subordinate, but as the soldier’s full equal.”

Of course, you may get slugged a second time (this time with the soldier’s “shame-less” right fist), but you will have claimed what you are owed: not a punch, but the dignity God has given each of us to possess and exercise and nurture in our neighbors.

You will have pursued meaning, purpose, justice … not happiness.

Bottomline: Like Megan Rice and her companions, like the centuries-long train of resistors treading the path before them, like Jesus … in the face of right-able wrongs, we, too, have no right to remain silent. We, too, have no right to do nothing. We, too, have no right to be happy.

But we do have a right to pursue a life of meaning. As Jesus himself proves: It’s the perfect life, the only life worth living.

Amen.

"Fishy Conspiracy"

Homily for the Third Sunday after the Epiphany  22 January 2017
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Rector

Jesus said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”                                                                                                      Matthew 4:19

“You’ve been training for this moment your entire life,” Sgt. Major Jonas Blane barks at his crack, special ops troops. “The universe has been conspiring your whole life to put you right here … right now.”

That’s the kind of game-changing talk fans came to expect of The Unit ─ the take-no-prisoners TV series that, for three seasons beginning in 2006, charted the missions and internal dynamics of a clone of the US Army Delta Force.

And the force behind The Unit’s most gripping episodes? David Mamet ─ all-star, award-winning playwright, producer, and director.

But even Mamet couldn’t protect The Unit from the critics. Their gripe? Not enough drama.

To silence the critics, Mamet channeled Sgt. Major Blane in a memo to The Unit’s writers. “What is drama?” Mamet asks. “Drama is the quest of the hero to overcome those things which prevent him or her from achieving a specific, acute goal.” That means, “we (the writers) must ask ourselves ─ of every scene ─ three questions:

1.    The specific, acute goal: Who wants what?

2.    What happens if they don't get it?

3.    Why now?

“Apply these questions like litmus paper,” Mamet concludes, “and the answers will tell you if the scene is dramatic or not.”

What happens when we apply that litmus test to Jesus’ “Follow-me” script as he calls his first four disciples: Peter and Andrew, James and John? Do we have drama?

Meaning, looking at Jesus and his disciple-targets,

1.    Who wants what?

2.    What happens if they don't get it?

3.    Why now?

Picture this: John the Baptist is arrested in order to prevent his grassroots resistance movement from taking on the Roman occupiers, their puppet Herod Antipas, and local networks of informants and collaborators.

John’s hands may be tied, but ─ and this is the answer to “Why now?” for Jesus ─ the torch is passed, and the dream lives on. Because John’s message (“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near”) ─ who appropriates the message word for word? Jesus. Barely had to update the website.

And yet, Jesus launches his own mission ─ his own answer to Mamet’s question, “Who wants what?”

What does Jesus want? It’s “specific” and “acute”: Nothing less than the Kingdom of Heaven ─ the Reign of God ─ established right here on earth ─ every nook and cranny … absent John’s menace.

Because John? All threat, all the time. What does John want people to get? “God’s Kingdom? Whew! We made it!”

Jesus? All opportunity, for all time. What does he want to hear? “We made it! We made God’s Kingdom!”

So, John the Baptist … Jesus. Same words (“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near”). Different message. Tone and style so different. That’s because Jesus aims for a different outcome.

But given the magnitude of what Jesus wants, he can’t go it alone. Result? He settles on a metaphor: snagging the best that money can’t buy. So, he scouts for recruits among the struggling fishing enterprises of Galilee. He spots two candidates: Simon (later, called Peter) and Andrew. He makes the pitch: “Follow me, and I will make you fish … for people.”

Not, as the Sunday School song goes (“I will make you fishers of men, if you follow me”). Not even “Perch today, people tomorrow.” But “Follow me, and I will make you … I will form you … I will cajole and compel you ... to 'fish' for people.”

That’s a pitch with bite! Obviously, because, Matthew says, “Immediately they leave their nets and follow Jesus.”

And then Round 2. Two more fishermen: James and John, the sons of Zebedee. Same results.

But what if the first targets had opted out? What if Jesus didn’t get what he wanted (four yes’s)?

Fallout. No drama. Jesus would ─ reluctantly ─ pack it all in and make a “go” of his stepfather Joseph’s home-improvement business. Yawn!

In other words, no Kingdom of Heaven on earth. Because if Jesus can’t snag the fishermen, what are his chances with anyone else?

That’s because, in terms of what Jesus wants, the fishermen are low-hanging fruit. That’s connected to what they want.

And it’s not remotely tied to the words of the hymn we occasionally sing:

They cast their nets in Galilee
just off the hills of brown;
such happy, simple fisherfolk,
before the Lord came down.

Contrary to the hymn, Peter and Andrew, James and John — who we eventually learn can be pretty edgy on a good day — on this day, they may not have been quite so happy, so content, such simple fisherfolk.

Reason: They’re on edge. It’s all in the numbers. In the regional economy, Galilee is Big Business. Big Business is fish. And fishermen are not big. In fact, they’re bottom-feeders.

Above them? The supply chain of getting fish from sea … to market … to table: a highly-regulated, highly-bureaucratic, highly-corrupt business, with profits trickling up, away from â labor — where the fish are — to á where the corporate sharks swim: the cities, like Capernaum, and even as far away as Rome.

For example, if you want to get into entry-level fishing or expand your business, you don’t just buy a boat and a few nets and suddenly it’s “Yo-ho-ho, a-sailing we will go!” That’s because the fishing industry is state-controlled. Caesar and Herod sell to co-ops (like Zebedee and his two sons) the fishing leases necessary to ply the waters of the Sea of Galilee for profit, as limited as the profits might be.

And chances are, you lease your boat and equipment, or borrow heavily to buy or build. Either way, you’re up to your eyeballs in debt.

The point? There’s good news. And there’s bad news.

The bad news: The system is stacked against the four fishermen. And it’s possible — likely, I think — the two groups of brothers are at the tipping point.

That, for them, is the answer to “Why now?”

The good news: As Jonas Blane might say, “The universe has been conspiring their whole life to put them right here … right now.”

Read: They’re ready to drop their nets ─ which they probably don’t own. They’re prepped to abandon the boats ─ which probably aren’t theirs. They can taste the taste of freedom ─ a taste they’ve never known. But they do know, as Janis Joplin used to sing, “Freedom’s just a name for nothing left to lose.”

And they can see plainly: Jesus isn’t selling them a lease to fish for people. He’s offering them — freely (on the spot!) opportunity ─ opportunity defined, as Jim Wallis says, by “more jobs on Main Street, than more profits on Wall Street.”

That is what the fishermen want: Better reasons to keep on keepin’-on. Bigger fish to fry. Drama!

And if they don’t get it? No drama. No opportunity. No exit. Same old-same old.

Well, not quite. Because, without a major turn-around in how things work on a grand scale, the trajectory is set. Like today, the rich will get richer. And the fishermen ─ along with their poor neighbors (like most, if not all of us) ─ will get poorer and poorer.

That is, now, as then, the record is clear: It’s no way to build an economy, despite what you’ll hear for the next four years. Once again and once for all: Prosperity. Does. Not. Trickle-down. It’s no way to build an economy. And, Jesus shows, it’s no way to build God’s kingdom.

But opportunity is.

And, given the opportunity to make a sea-change in their lives ─ their whole mind-set ─ their place in the world ─ how they will wring possibilities out of each moment of their lives to love neighbor and God better and better ─ Peter and Andrew, James and John choose the opportunity only Jesus offers. They choose the opportunity Jesus offers each of us.

Proving that God is banking on the choices we make today, choices that create ─ in this world ─ more opportunity for our neighbors and ourselves, and not at our neighbors' expense. Choices that add up to equality, the kind of equality we marched to achieve ─ along with millions of others ─ in Saturday's shoulder-to-shoulder Women’s March for America in Boston, all across the country, and around the globe.

Bottomline: As with those four fishermen, at this very moment, Jesus is taking the full measure of each and every one of us. “You’ve been training for this moment your entire life,” Jesus argues. “The universe has been conspiring your whole life to put you right here … right now.”

“Follow me, then,” Jesus calls. “And I will make you fish … for people.”

Amen

"Seasonal Slugfest"

Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Advent  18 December 2016
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Rector

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

St. Nick’s parting shot from ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.

And you might be wondering ― with Advent still in full swing ─ why jump the gun on Christmas?

Well, with roughly six shopping days left, it’s “now or never” if we’re going to wade into this whole “Merry Christmas” / “Happy Holidays” mess everyone with an axe to grind has their knickers in a twist about. (I know, mixed metaphors. Deal.)

That is, in a country that respects ― according to the spirit and the intent of the Constitution ― separation of Church and State … in a society that benefits from an increasingly diverse, pluralistic population ... just what are you going to wish people as we slouch inexorably toward the Christmas meltdown?

St. Nick’s all-points "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night"? Slim it down and you get “Merry Christmas!”

Or should we edit our best wishes for the season? Expand them to be more inclusive of all our neighbors?

If you choose the “Merry Christmas” option, it all depends on what you mean by “Merry Christmas.” Or, how you mean it.

And that requires getting into motives ─ maybe even agendas ─ when we express greetings of the season in stores, at the mall, at the post office … here in the parish … among friends … among strangers, total strangers.

Read: How likely are you to be the perpetrator in an incident like the one outside a Phoenix, Arizona Walmart a few seasons back?

Picture this: Salvation Army volunteer Kristina Vindiola was doing what the Salvation Army does this time of year: She was ringing a bell and had the kettle prepped to receive donations to fund the Salvation Army’s charitable work. You know, the work Jesus did in-season, out-of-season: feeding the poor … caring for the lonely … clothing people down on their luck … helping neighbors who have fallen into the cracks.

Disclaimer: This isn’t a plug for the Salvation Army. I’m not at all keen on their anti-LGBT stances. Your mileage may vary.

Nevertheless, ringing her bell and staffing her kettle, Kristina Vindiola wished a passerby “Happy Holidays.” The woman reeled around and snarled, “You’re supposed to say, ‘Merry Christmas!’”

And no-sooner-than-you-could-say “blessed are the peacemakers,” she hauls off and slugs the volunteer, knocking her to the ground.

Triggering the question: On a scale of 1 to 10, how likely are you to be charged with assault-and-battery in the next six days if someone wishes you “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”?

Because this incident has me just gobsmacked. I’m wondering why “Merry Christmas” is such a sacred cow ─ you might even say, idol ─ to some people?

So, I’ve done a quick survey of news stories, blogs, and what passes for critical thinking among the pundits on Fox yelling the loudest in this season of peace, love, and joy.

And my admittedly unscientific survey suggests three possible meanings behind the greeting “Merry Christmas”: political … commercial … and Christ-centered.

First, “Merry Christmas” as politics.

What does that sound like? It begins with the president-elect pledging, “We’re going to start saying ‘Merry Christmas’ again.” I can’t tell you what that even means, but I do know it’s blatantly unconstitutional. And yet, it resonates with the sort who spit out “Merry Christmas” through clenched teeth.

Look. This is nothing less than a skirmish in the so-called “War on Christmas” or, “War on Christianity.” It’s a fabrication. It has absolutely nothing at all to do with religion. And everything to do with politics and pumping up the foaming-at-the-mouth base.

Because Christianity in this country is not under attack. Yes, it has diminished ─ and rightly so ─ under Constitutional review. But no one ─ least of all the government ─ has parked a tank on our lawn.

And those stories you hear about Nativity crèches being banned from public buildings and grounds? For the life of me, I can’t figure what they’re doing there in the first place.

Because, do we erect crucifixes on statehouse property on Good Friday? Replicas of the Empty Tomb on Easter (Easter, of course, easily besting Christmas in the annual liturgical year competition)? Do we erect on commons all around the country statues of Buddha on Buddha’s birthday? Or Krishna’s? Or the Mormons’ Joseph Smith? Well, maybe in Utah.

More to the point: Would you want your tax dollars used to clutter up public property with symbols of sects you don’t believe in or religions you consider downright heretical, even satanic?

Meaning: What’s under attack isn’t Christianity. What’s under attack is privilege bestowed by the accidents of history.

That’s because some of these folks who’ve had it pretty good since 1776 are feeling a loss of privilege: the perceived right of some to clobber all with their brand of road-rage Christianity.

It seems, however, Jesus ─ arguably, the only person with standing in this trumped-up brouhaha ─ has a few things to say about privilege. Like, “The first shall be last, and the last shall be first.”

And what Jesus has to say on this score has everything to do with how we look at saying “Merry Christmas” … and to whom.

For example, to those who lob an in-your-face “Merry Christmas” ― bullying complete strangers ― I ask, “Where in that is Jesus … Jesus, who suffered and died at the hands of bullies?”

So, that’s my gloss on the menace of “Merry Christmas” as politics. What about its commercial dimensions?

Factoid: Except for the crèche ― courtesy of mild-mannered St. Francis of Assisi ― and St. Nicholas ― now a bleached bloviation of the olive-complected fourth-century Bishop of Myra ― and except for a smattering of carols and chorales ─ just about all the trappings we have of Christmas today are the product of 19^th and 20^th century merchandising.

In other words, “Merry Christmas” means good business.

So, I have a problem when sales personnel are required to wish customers, “Merry Christmas.” Because all I’m hearing is “Fa-la-la-la-la! Ka-ching, ka-ching.”

But all is not lost. Plotting a course through the landmines of “Merry-Christmas” as bad politics and good business, a lot of people ─ and I mean a lot ─ have been circulating on Facebook what Google indexes under the “Happy Holidays Meme.” It’s gone viral because the optics are good and the sentiment makes so much sense.

The optics: It’s a JPEG of a sheet of paper torn from what looks like a legal pad. The writing is handwritten in block letters, a different rainbow color for each statement:

I don’t understand what the big deal is.

If you’re Jewish, tell me “Happy Hanukkah.”

If you’re Christian, tell me, “Merry Christmas.”

If you’re African-American, tell me “Joyous Kwanzaa.”

If you don’t prefer those, tell me, “Happy Holidays.” I will not be offended. I will be thankful you took the time to say something nice to me.

Great sentiments. I could quibble that there are African-Americans who don’t observe Kwanzaa. And the Seinfeld fans. What about Festivus?!

But the Happy Holidays meme? A heart-warming ─ if a bit treacly ─ “We come in peace” sentiment. Effective … to a point.

… because there’s a problem. It doesn’t reflect fully Jesus’ idea of hospitality to strangers. And Jesus is where we’re coming from, at least.

That is, the meme puts the burden on the greeter (let’s say, a hapless salesperson). “If you are Jewish … if you are Christian … if you are African-American, and so on … tell me …”

So, I’d like to flip it. I’d like to shift the burden to the person being greeted:

If you can tell I’m an observant Jew, wish me “Happy Hanukkah.”

If you can tell I’m a follower of Jesus ─ that I go to church most Sundays, support my parish, live the Good News ─ wish me “Merry Christmas.”

If you know I celebrate Kwanzaa, wish me “Joyous Kwanzaa.”

In the absence of any other data ─ stranger-to-stranger? Wish me “Happy Holidays.”

And if you don’t wish me anything … who … cares?!! Life is too short to shorten it further by carrying around a chip on your shoulder and calling it religion.

… because the point isn’t politics. It isn’t sales revenues. For us, it’s funneling every ounce of our energy into Jesus’ take on Christmas. Jesus’ take on any holiday, any day:

I was hungry … and you gave me food.
I was thirsty … and you gave me something to drink.
I was a stranger … and you welcomed me.
I was naked … and you gave me clothing.
I was sick … and you took care of me.
I was in prison … and you visited me.

Bottom line: Nothing else matters when we mean what we say by doing what we profess: “God bless us … everyone!”

Amen.

“Cher, John the Baptist, and Jesus walk into a bar …”

Homily for the Third Sunday of Advent  11 December 2016
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Rector

“Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”                                                                                                                  Matthew 11:3

“Snap out of it!” The line that caps one of the greatest moments ever on the silver screen.

The movie? Moonstruck, the Oscar-winning 1987 romantic comedy starring Cher and Nicholas Cage.

Not to make a virtue of sleeping with your future-brother-in-law two weeks before your wedding, but in the famous scene, Loretta Castorini (Cher) has just slept with her future-brother-in-law, Ronny Cammareri (Nicholas Cage).

As day breaks on Brooklyn Heights, Loretta has buyer’s remorse and swears to Ronny, “Last night never happened and we’re gonna take this to our coffins.”

Ronny protests, “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Loretta asks.

Ronny’s answer? “I’m in love with you!”

And not to make a virtue of domestic violence, but Loretta hauls off and smacks him in the face once … twice. And then the immortal line: “Snap out of it!”

In other words, “Ronny! Reality!”

Same sort of thing happens to John the Baptist when he’s expecting the Terminator, and he gets Jesus.

John’s reaction? “Jesus, are you the one who is to come ─ are you the Messiah? ─ or are we to wait for another?”

Jesus’ response? “Johnny! Snap out of it!”

That’s because, right up until the political tide turned against John, he had been riding high. Just about everybody was checking out his in-your-face message: “The Messiah is here! The End is near!”

But, for John, that was then, this is now. Where is John today?

The wilderness … the River Jordan. Gone.

Reality? A prison cell.

The crowds, the baptisms, the paparazzi. Gone.

Reality? Only a handful of disciples left. And they’re set to walk.

John’s expectation that Jesus — pronto! — would usher in “The End” not with a whimper, but with a bang. Gone.

Reality? Fizzle where John smelled sizzle.

That is, John has put all his chips on Jesus. For example, “I preach repentance,” John argues. “Jesus will bring judgment!

“I warn, ‘The ax is poised at the root of the trees.’ Jesus will level the whole forest!

“I baptize with water. He will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire!

“I breathe the cracking, dry air of the desert. Jesus will be all blast-furnace!”

These are John’s expectations.

Problem is, given what Jesus delivers, are these expectations reasonable?

To find out, John sends a delegation to confront Jesus. “You’ve got the ball now,” they charge, “but you haven’t run with it. Jesus, are you the one we’ve been waiting for?”

Jesus’ answer? “Yes, I’m the one. But your expectations are out of whack.”

That’s because Jesus isn’t in the business of meeting others’ expectations. He’s in the business of creating God’s reality.

And that’s a reality that’s equal parts results, hope, and challenge.

Jesus tackles first the results and the hope.

“Snap out of it,” Jesus says. “I get results: The blind receive their sight, the lame walk. I cleanse lepers and the deaf hear. But, it’s obvious, not all the blind, the lame, lepers, and the deaf … just yet. But there’s reason to hope.

“Snap out of it! I raise the dead. But not all the dead … just yet. Hope.

“Snap out of it! I preach good news to the poor, but have you noticed? Not all the poor experience good news … just yet. Hope.”

In other words, it may not be what John — or we — were expecting, but God’s Kingdom is here. And it’s still coming, not ─ as hyped ─ in an Apocalypse of famine, fire, and smoke. But more often than not in quite unspectacular ways, in mini-decisions and minute actions.

One ostensibly unspectacular example: Awhile back, Bill and I were watching acerbic pundit Keith Olbermann. One of his guests was Maysoon Zayid, a 39 year-old Palestinian Muslim. She’s an activist, an actress … and a comedian. A funny, iconoclastic, skewer-Arabs-and-non-Arabs-alike, equal-opportunity comic now from New Jersey, no less. A female Muslim Jon Stewart. On American TV.

But there’s more. Ms. Zayid has cerebral palsy. And it’s very clear from her jerky movements on camera and her occasional facial distortions that she does.

So, here, the way it played out — no hoopla, no Gabriel’s Horn Blows at Midnight fanfare — in a highly image-based industry, just another in the line-up of political analysts that night on a fairly mainstream news show: a pundit, who happened to be a Muslim female comedian, who happened to have cerebral palsy.

The point? Barriers broken in high def. Expected or not, that’s what God’s Kingdom looks like. Here and now.

Consequently, Jesus’ message to John is: “Snap out of it! No pyrotechnics. Violence is always the easy way out. And in its place? The one-step-in-front-of-the-other slog of justice.” And that's the challenge.

What, then, of our expectations? For example:

Why are so many American families still forced to spend the holidays separated from their loved ones serving in Afghanistan and other war zones? The expectation? “Peace on earth.” Or so the angels billed Jesus’ birth.

Why ─ even with unemployment at an astonishing low of 4.6 percent ─ are 7.4 million of our neighbors suffering the effects of unemployment? The expectation? Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who labor.”

Why will so many millions of children in our communities — and exponentially more around the globe — go to bed hungry tonight? The expectation? Jesus said, “Suffer the little children to come to me.”

Why is a packing crate over a heat vent the only “affordable housing” available to so many homeless as bitter winter advances? The expectation? Jesus said, “In my father’s house are many dwelling-places.”

And your needs — career, health, relationships, home ─ your expectations? “Whatever you ask the Father in my name,” Jesus said, “God will grant it.”

Expectation vs. reality … a disconnect. What are we to do with that?

Rabbi Abraham Heschel offered an answer. “God,” Heschel wrote, “is waiting for us to redeem the world.”

In other words, if you’re waiting around for God to fix things, “snap out of it!”

What does that look like? Using Jesus’ categories, people need no longer be blind. God is waiting for us to redistribute the money, the technology, and the human resources we already have to eradicate blindness once and for all.

Children — no one — need ever be crippled by street crime and drive-by shootings. God is waiting for us to eliminate the root causes of crime and poverty.

The deaf ─ all deaf persons ─ will be able to hear. We’ve made extraordinary strides, but God is waiting for us to perfect current technology — including stem-cell technology — to make deafness history.

The lepers of our day — those living with HIV, especially in Africa — can be treated … or at the very least be treated with compassion. God is waiting for us.

And the poor can experience good news. The numbers don’t lie: We have in hand ─ today! ─ what it takes to feed, clothe, and provide housing for absolutely everyone on the planet. God is waiting for us.

The point:

Leaving all the heavy lifting to God?

Never tried roaming free in God’s imagination to discover what is humanly possible?

Think the isolated results Jesus got can’t ever be the norm?

Snap out of it! Because if we don’t, is the world supposed to go on waiting … and waiting and waiting … waiting … for another?

Amen.