The Rev. Josh Shipman
The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost, Year B/Track2, 2015
Amos 7:7-15

The people in the village of Dibley
were in for a surprise.

They weren’t very surprised
when their beloved Reverend Pottle died.
After all, he was at least 200 years old.
It did cause a bit of a stir, though,
that he went on to glory
during the Sunday service.

The good people of Dibley
were in for a bigger surprise, though.

They were expecting the Bishop
to send them a Gerald, perhaps.

“a bloke, beard, Bible, bad breath
That sort of thing.”

Instead, they received
Geraldine, a female priest
with interesting taste
in sweaters.

The head of the parish council
was outraged.
“If Jesus wanted women
to spread the Gospel,
he’d have appointed them,”
he said,
“It’s Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,
not Sharon, Tracy, Tara and Debbie!”

He was so angry by Geraldine’s selection
that he called an extraordinary meeting
of the parish council.

Geraldine was running late
for the meeting.
She arrived just in time
for a reading of the draft of a letter
to the Bishop:

“Your new choice for vicar
has now arrived.
We are deeply unhappy about her
and feel she won't fit into our community.
"We are angry that we should be used
as an experiment ground for
the excesses of the modern church,
and we ask you to reconsider
this disastrous appointment.
Signed, the Dibley Parish Council.

“Phew! Well, you certainly know how to wind a girl.”
Geraldine replied.[1]

[pause]

I wonder how Amos felt.

We have, in our Old Testament lesson,
the third installment in a series of visions.

Here are the two visions that
are not included in our lesson:
He sees locusts devouring
the vegetation of the land,
asks for God to relent,
and God does.
Then, he sees fire coming down
from heaven
to devour the land,
asks for God to relent,
and God does.

The vision that we have
in our lesson is different, though.

There is no relenting.
I will never again pass them by;
the high places of Isaac shall be made desolate,
and the sanctuaries of Israel shall be laid waste,
and I will rise against the house of Jeroboam
with the sword.

As is the custom regarding prophets,
the local religious establishment
is not pleased.

The local priest reports Amos to the King!

And then he says to Amos,
“Get out of town!”
“If it’s money you’re after,
go find some in Judah.”

“Don’t you know that this is
the king’s temple?”
Now, there is a line
that should make us pause.

I’ll save my sermon
on church and state affairs
for another Sunday, though.

Just note that this line
about the temple of the kingdom
is said without any kind of irony.

(pause)

Something else that is interesting
is the fact that our lectionary
cuts out the best part of this exchange.

Our friend Amos adds this
to his response to the priest:
Your wife shall become a prostitute in the city,
and your sons and your daughters shall fall by thesword,
and your land shall be parcelled out by line;
you yourself shall die in an uncleanland,
and Israel shall surely go into exile away from its land.

Bad Amos!
Not the kind of person you’d want
coming to a church meet and greet party!

[pause]

But as Amos says,
he’s simply doing his job.
When God says “Go prophesy,”
you do it.

As one commentator says,
“It was God’s need for a prophet
to address injustice in Israel
that sent Amos into a new calling.”
and
“The authority for Amos' work
is rooted in God's call, not Amos' biography.
Though the people of Bethel
attempted to discredit him
on the basis of his nationality,
family and occupation,
these factors did not disqualify him
from divine service
nor diminish
the truth of his message.”[2]

In a way,
our vicar of Dibley, Geraldine,
is doing the same thing.

She’s not going around
telling people that their wives
will fall into ill repute, of course,
But she’s living fully
into her calling,
and part of that calling
is to challenge people,
to stretch them beyond
their comfort zones.

What would it be like
to live into your own
prophetic callings?

Would people be
uncomfortable?

Would they be
complacent?

And how do we receive
the prophetic callings
of others?

[pause]

My first week in the Old Rectory
was interesting…
for a variety of reasons.

One reason was a colorful
visit I had.

Tim and I had just stepped out
to walk the dogs when a man showed up
He said, “I need to talk to the pastor,”
“I just got out of the hospital,
and I really need a pastor.”
“OK,” I thought.
This man has just had
some kind of major life change
and he’s in need of some
good, old-fashioned spiritual direction.

I invited him to come inside to my office.
I closed the door.
The man and I sat down.
He said, “I’m just going to level with you.
I need $79.50”

[pause]

An oddly specific amount.
And perhaps, he should have
started the bidding a little lower.

I explained that I had just moved
across the country and I had two
bank accounts with 0 balances.

So, then, the gentleman asks
to use my phone.

I think that maybe this
isn’t a great idea, but
even people in jail
get a free phone call.
It was the least I could do
after not being able to
give the man his $79.50.

I immediately regretted
the decision after
what was supposed to be a five minute call
turned into a 15 minute conversation,
apparently planning a trip
to Atlantic City
with his friend on the phone.

Naturally,
while I’m trapped in my office
with this man planning a casino trip
on my phone,
I receive a text that my new stove
and refrigerator would be
delivered in the next 10 minutes.

I try to, as politely as possible,
tell the man that his phone time
is about to run out, as I am about
to have to deal with an appliance delivery.

He explains that it will just be five minutes.
He needs to get some kind of password set up
so his friend can wire him some money to
the Martin’s grocery store on Chestnutt Ave.

My impatience must be palpable
because he keeps reassuring me
that he’s almost done.

He finally gets off the phone
and I think we have arrived
at the part of the story
where we part ways.

But the plot thickens,
he now needs to call
some other friend or family member.

Really losing my patience,
I said, “Look, buddy. I don’t
have all day for you to call
your whole family tree!”

Naturally, I relent,
and we repeat the cycle.

After what seems like an
eternity, the man sets off,
handwritten directions
to Martin’s
and strange notes about
passwords in hand.

Did this man feel like Geraldine?
Did my briskness knock the wind out of him?
Did this man feel like Amos?
Told to take his trade elsewhere?

[pause]

You see, my brothers and sisters,
God’s call isn’t limited
to vicars with interesting taste in sweaters
or to priests-in-charge who might be
somewhat controversial choices.

Everybody here by virtue
of his or her baptism,
is called to take on the mantle
of the prophet.

But it doesn’t end there.

Every single person
who comes through these doors
has the potential to be prophetic.

But we know from our lessons, today,
that prophets are not always well received.

What if those several minutes on my phone
were the only contact that man had had
with friends in weeks?

Would my stove and refrigerator
not have been delivered
if I had given the man
a few more minutes to
kick back and chat
with his friend?

What did that man
have to teach me?

Why did he make me
uncomfortable?

What do all the people
who make us uncomfortable
have to teach us?
What if we received them
all as messengers of God
instead of mere inconveniences,
speedbumps in our path to peace?
What kind of test
might we use
to discern whether somebody
is a prophet or not?

[pause]

Perhaps by remembering
that the outcasts, the marginalized,
the “others” among us
are the ones with the message,
while the people of
privilege may ask
for our heads
on a platter.

1

[1]

[2]Amos 7:7-15 Commentary by Elna K. Solvang - Working Preacher - Preaching This Week (RCL)