When people first get involved with the church, they sometimes have a rather romantic view of it all. As they get to know people, and get involved in projects, and start to see how it all works, they often have their rather naïve perspective that it’s all sweetness and light burned out of them.

Well, I’ve been a priest for thirteen years now, and was very involved in the church for many years before that, and, believe me, I haven’t harbored even a particle of romantic idealism about the church for a long time. In fact, maybe I shouldn’t say this, but, at this point in my life, after all these years of being a priest, if someone who was thinking of becoming a Christian asked me what to expect from the church . . . I hope you won’t take too much offense at this, but if I were really honest with that person, and didn’t just give them the standard "party-line" answer, I’d have to tell them that the Church — and not just the Church in the abstract, but St. John’s even— is made up of — a bunch of fools.

Fools. I’m sorry; if that upsets you, I understand it. If you want to stand up and yell at me, "I didn’t come here to be insulted!" I understand that. But I’m called to tell the truth as I see it, and as I look out at you, I see a motley bunch of fools.

Fools. People who are foolish enough to believe that the message of the cross, the message that being subjected to an humiliating and painful death can be redemptive, the message that love is stronger than hate, the message that apparent defeat is not the end, the message that the world’s power is not real power —I see fools who believe that the message of the cross, of absolute powerlessness, is the message of God’s power.

The Jews didn’t buy it, and neither did the Greeks. St. Paul says the Jews demand signs. They knew better than to follow someone who died nailed to a tree. The Hebrew Bible makes it clear that dying nailed to a tree is a shameful death. The Jews were looking for the Messiah in the line of King David, a great warrior. They want a guy wielding weapons! They want to kick the Romans out! They want the power of tanks!

What sign do you give them? The cross. The sign of love expressed in absolute vulnerability. And you say that that love is more powerful, more enduring. Fools.

Paul says the Greeks, good intellectuals, demand wisdom. Good luck with them! When you encounter someone who doesn’t believe, someone wise in the ways of the world, someone who knows how things get done in this world and how to win, expand influence, enlarge empire, protect himself, protect us, someone who is understandably a skeptic — when you encounter that worldly, savvy person —you’ll never be able to debate them and convince them, argue with them and convince them, use your devastating logic and convince them. You will never be able to convince them. And yet you stake your life on the foolish proposition that the message of the cross is the power of God Almighty. What can I say? A bunch of fools.

Fools who would follow some fool who clearly sees the world upside down. "Blessed are the poor in spirit." Not those who demonstrate their superiority, not those who can handle things themselves, but those who depend on God. Foolish.

"Blessed are those who mourn." Not those who steel themselves from the cares of the world, not those who know that to make an omelet, you have to break a few eggs. Not those who know clearly who the enemy is and do not allow themselves the luxury of thinking about "collateral damage," much less the humanity of the enemy. No. "Blessed are those who grieve over the wrongs and sufferings of the world." Just plain foolish.

It goes on! "The meek," "Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness," "The merciful," "The pure in heart," "The peacemakers," and (listen to this one!), "Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad!" Reviled, persecuted, slandered? Rejoice and be glad?! Have you ever heard such foolishness in your life? You can quote me on this: this Son of God you people follow is nothing if he is not one big fool.

But, on further investigation, that’s not surprising. The acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree, and foolishness seems to run in the family. Take this reading from Micah. What we’ve got here is a form of what’s called a "covenant lawsuit" brought by God against the people for their infidelity and ingratitude. The mountains, hills, and the foundations of the earth serve as the jury and witnesses to the covenant.

Now, so far, all of this is quite sensible. This is all very orderly and logical, as lawsuits tend to be. God clearly states God’s complaint: "Look, I liberated you from slavery in Egypt; and gave you Moses, and Aaron, and Miriam to lead you; and I protected you in the wilderness; and I insured that you’d have a safe crossing into Jordan by parting the waters for you, and yet, despite all that and more, you’re a bunch of ingrates. Why have you abandoned your God?"

That makes sense. This is a well-stated complaint that will survive a motion to dismiss. And what happens next is not surprising either, at least not to those of you familiar with litigation. The people of Israel have no doubt been advised by their lawyer that they don’t have a very strong case, so they do what people in that position usually do; they try to settle. Makes perfect sense. "With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before God on high?" "What’s it going to take to make this go away, God?" And their lawyer has undoubtedly told them what lawyers always say to clients who have a very weak case: "Bring your checkbook." They know that this is going to be expensive: God is in the driver’s seat. So they say, "Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?" A nice opening bid, but God isn’t biting, so they take a deep breath and, somewhat painfully, say, "Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousand rivers of oil?" Wow! They’ve just about put all their chips into the pot, but this God is one tough negotiator, and there are still chips left to get. God isn’t biting at even that offer. Nothing foolish about this.

So they sweeten the deal with the last thing they have, the most precious thing they have. "Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?" Ah, now’s the time to pull the trigger on this thing. Now God has negotiated from a position of strength, hung tough, and gotten absolutely everything they have to give. A masterful piece of negotiation that shows nerves of steel.

And it is at that moment, when God can have everything they own just by saying "It’s a deal," that we learn that the Creator of the Universe is a fool. Because what the God says is not, "Deal!" but is instead, "Keep it. Keep all of it. I don’t want it. All I want is for you to give me your heart, and for you to act like it. All I require of you is to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God."

God could have had it all, but what does God ask for? Us to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with our God. Any negotiator wise in the ways of the world will tell you: that is nothing more than plain old foolishness.

So, what can I say? When I look out at you and see a bunch of people who follow a savior whose foolish display of "power" was a painful display of radical vulnerability, and when I hear him articulating a totally foolish upside-down view of the world, and when I learn that this God is at least as big a fool as he is — and this is the Christ you follow, and this is the God you worship — I have to conclude that this is a church chock full of fools.

And I am so proud to be a fool among you.