A Celebrity Meets a Priest on Derby Day

Easter 5, Year B

Acts 8:26-40
Psalm 22:24-30
1 John 4:7-21
John 15:1-8


Almighty God, whom truly to know is everlasting life: Grant us so perfectly to know your Son Jesus Christ to be the way, the truth, and the life, that we may steadfastly follow his steps in the way that leads to eternal life; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

 On Derby day in Louisville, private jets roar overhead as movie stars, sports stars, and TV personalities flock to our city for the renowned horse race. Limousines of the rich and famous crowd the streets.

Out on foot to pick up some Saturday morning groceries at Paul’s, I noticed a traffic jam at the railroad tracks on Breckinridge Lane. There, in the passenger seat of a bright yellow Lamborghini convertible, I saw Bruce Jenner stopped at the train crossing. Hair in a pony tail, head bowed over his Kindle, Jenner was engrossed in reading something. He didn’t even notice the other drivers who were starting to pull out their phones to take pictures of the controversial star. He didn’t hear their sniggers or react to a couple of rude shouts, either, although I saw his driver roll his eyes and glare.

          All of a sudden, I found myself crossing the street to stand alongside his car. Yes, shy little me: the one who would never approach a stranger unbidden. Yes, judgmental me: the one who scorns all fame-seekers and low-life reality TV stars, the one who remains unimpressed with famous athletes, the one who struggles to understand transgender issues. Somehow, though, as if propelled by the Spirit, here I was, walking up to Bruce Jenner in his Lamborghini.

          My lips moved on their own. “What are you reading?” I blurted out.

          Jenner looked up without surprise, smiled, and responded, “Oh, I’m reading some beautiful poetry from the prophet Isaiah. I downloaded this Bible last night in my hotel room for kicks and just can’t put it down. This is fascinating stuff, but it doesn’t always make a lot of sense.” He frowned and slowly shook his head back and forth.

          Now the train had passed, and the crossing gate was lifting. Soon I had to jog along to keep up with the car, which was starting to roll forward in traffic. People started honking at us.

          “I know what you mean,” I panted. “I’m a priest who has to preach every week, and I struggle to make sense of scripture, too.”

“Wow, a priest!” gasped Jenner. "Hey, traffic is moving here. Why don’t you jump in and teach me something?” He patted the small seat next to him and scooted over to make room.

I stared. I didn’t want to get in a car with a strange stranger. Who knows where I would end up? Besides, people were taking pictures. How embarrassing. I wouldn’t want to end up in the tabloids. My colleagues would think that I was showing off.  Who knows what the Bishop would say? Or the Vestry? I don’t have the answer on transgender issues. I don’t have the answer on lots of things. How could I guide Jenner?

But I found myself squished into the little front seat, anyway. Much too close for comfort.

“Listen,” said Jenner, poking me. “Here’s what it says: ‘As a sheep led to slaughter, and quiet as a lamb being sheared, he was silent, saying nothing.  He was mocked and put down, never got a fair trial. But who now can count his kin
since he’s been taken from the earth?’[1] What does it mean? Is Isaiah talking about himself? Hmmm. ‘Led to the slaughter. Mocked, no fair trial’ …Is he talking about the mess in Baltimore? It sounds like God should intervene.”

Before I could say anything, Jenner kept going: “Man, I sure have felt like a lamb being sheared, silent, afraid to speak. I know about being mocked and put down. I sure would like for my suffering to mean something. Could the scriptures be talking about me ….” Jenner grew silent and pensive.

I wanted to start telling Jenner about first, second, and third Isaiah, that the book wasn't really written by one person. I wanted to explain that these "Suffering Servant" passages are very complex, and that we don't really know who the prophet was referring to. I wanted to teach him how Christians can't just appropriate the Hebrew Scriptures for our own purposes. But instead, I heard not my words but the words of the Johannine School coming from my mouth:  “'God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him … There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment… We love because he first loved us.' Jesus said, 'Remain in this love. Remain in me as I remain in you.’”

          We were winding through Louisville during this time, taking a short-cut through Cherokee Park. As we passed by Hogan’s Fountain, Jenner told the chauffeur to stop the car. “Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” Jenner cried with enthusiasm.

“Lots of things,” I thought glumly. “First, like the fact that I don’t know if you have already been baptized. You can’t just go baptizing people over and over in the Episcopal Church. We have strict rules about this kind of thing.  Second, like the idea that I don’t have my Prayer Book on me, and I might screw something up. Third, like the issue that you haven’t been properly prepared with classes. I can’t just jump into Hogan’s Fountain and start baptizing people like some wacky evangelist.”

Yet, amazingly, as I was still listing stumbling blocks, there I was with Bruce Jenner in Hogan’s Fountain, up to the knees in murky water, naming the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, while babies in strollers gaped, and melting ice cream ran over the hands of astounded children, and incredulous parents rolled their eyes.

Until, of course, I woke up. Goodness, I must have fallen asleep on my patio while I was taking a rest from trimming vines in the sun. “What a crazy dream,” I mused, rubbing my eyes with profound relief. Whew, I would never get myself in a situation like that one in real life. To lose control over a situation like that? No way! To be able to preach love to a stranger, to lay all of my judgments totally aside? No, that wouldn’t happen. To evangelize like some TV preacher instead of following the proper Episcopal way of doing things? No way, I thought with a shudder.

I wonder, though. Does loving my neighbor in the way that God loves us involve acts of will on my part--deliberate, thoughtful plans … Or does it involve living my life connected to the source of the love, in Jesus? And giving that love the freedom to bless those whom I encounter on the road?

My eyes drifted over to the pile of branches that I had just cut from my blackberry vines before I fell asleep. They had already wilted in the hot sun. The thirsty, dying leaves had collapsed onto the pavement. No longer attached to the vine, the life in them was fading fast.

“I am the true vine,” Jesus said in the passage that I had quoted to Jenner in my dream. “And my father is the vine grower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit … Apart from me you [all] can do nothing.”

I stopped pruning, and began to pray, instead.

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[1] Acts 8:32-33, from The Message, by Eugene Peterson.