“He passed through the midst of them and went on his way.”
“Without love, I am a Noisy Gong or a Clanging Cymbal.”
As I prayed with this text, I imagine Jesus—perched on the edge of a cliff—facing an angry mob of his family and friends—the people from his hometown—about to be hurled off the cliff—except the angry mob—the people—have become literal cymbals and gongs--
A mob of animated percussion instruments creating noise vile and violent enough to hurl Jesus from the cliff.
My Sermons (and other thoughts)
a sampling of sermons preached in the Episcopal Diocese of Arizona and a sprinkling of other writings