First Lutheran Church

Pentecost 4A + July 2, 2023

Matthew 10:40-42"Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.  Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward." 

Sermon “The Vision of Sir Launfal”

This morning I would like to share with you a short story based on the poem, "The Vision of Sir Launfal,” written by James Russell Lowell, first published in 1848.

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It was a perfect day in June, one of those days when heaven reaches down and touches the earth.  It was warm and fresh, the hills were green, the flowers were in bloom, the birds were singing.   All of creation was bright and alive.

It was a perfect day for Sir Launfal to begin his quest.  Sir Launfal was a grand and noble man, he was the Lord of the county, and his quest was holy and pure.  Today he would mount his trusty steed and go out in search of the holy grail, the very cup that our Lord used "In the night he was betrayed," the cup that held the saving blood of God.

Sir Launfal put on his finest clothes, bright colors that represented his family, his land, and his faith.  He then carefully put on his armor, the bright polished silver of a great knight.  He strapped his golden sword to his side, and grab his shield, adorned with his proud and noble crest.

As he stepped out into the day, the sun danced upon him.  The call went out to lower the drawbridge and open the gate, Sir Launfal mounted his horse and paraded out of his castle.  The people cheered their Knight as he made his way out into his adventure.

When he arrived at the gate Sir Launfal became aware of a leper standing at the side of the road.  The man was so foul and bent that Launfal's flesh began to crawl.  The man appear to Launfal as a blot on the beautiful summer morning. 

In scorn he tossed the man a piece of gold and rode off on his holy quest.

The leper did not stoop over to pick up the gold, he only muttered to himself, "He gives nothing but worthless Gold."

Sir Launfal searched far and near all summer long but had not found the holy grail.  And now the warm breezes of summer were being replaced by the cold winds of winter.  Flowers gave way to snow flakes.  The birds were gone, but still Sir Launfal searched and searched.

Finally, one day he noticed that his bright and fine clothes were now tattered and torn, thin and faded, his once bright and shiny armor no longer reflected the sun, but instead was giving way to rust.  And Sir Launfal noticed that he had become a bit bent and gray.  Winter had taken its toll.  The proud and noble Knight was gone, all that was left was a tired and hungry man.  His quest had made him nothing more than a beggar.

Soon it was Christmas, Launfal found himself suffering and alone.  That night he had a dream.  He dreamed that he was returning to his castle, it was summer again, everything was bright and warm like that day that he left.  And as he approached the gate to his castle he recognized the leper, the one to which he had thrown the gold piece to on the day that his quest began.  This time Sir Launfal felt compassion for the man who once made his skin crawl.  Deep in his soul he knew more about suffering and poverty.  So this time Sir Launfal stopped.  He reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a cup and plate.  He pulled out a scrap of bread and put in on the plate, he then walked over to the stream that flowed outside of the castle and filled the cup with water.  He then reached out and gave the cup and the plate to the foul and bent man.

And as the beggar received the cup and the plate, the Leper began to change.  A light shone down, and the beggar became bright and tall, fair and straight.  And the simple cup and plate turned to gold.  The Leper spoke, "Do not be afraid, it is I.  You have found the Holy Grail for which you have been searching.

The Crust is my body broken for thee

This water my blood shed for thee

the Holy Supper is kept indeed

When we share with another in need

Not what we give, but what we share

for the gift without the giver is bare

He who gives of himself feeds three

Himself, his neighbor, and me

Sir Launfal awoke from his dream, he knew that the holy grail for which he was searching waited for him at home, just outside his castle.

It is now said that in the county of Sir Launfal- there is no poverty.  The castle gates are open wide, and all are welcome to feast inside.

Let those who have ears, hear!

Poets, writers, and theologians, Mythology, suggest that the Holy Grail is “an object or goal that is sought after for its great significance,”“something that you want very much but something that is very hard to get or achieve.”  Something worth seeking after with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and even all your resources!

What is your Holy Grail?  And more importantly, what’s the Holy Grail that God has invited you to seek out? To seek out with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and even all your resources!

This morning we are reminded that the Holy Grail is not something that is found by climbing high mountains, achieving advanced spiritual enlightenment, - by undertaking a holy quest.  But rather it is something you already possess, something that is very near to you, something that exists in “your ordinary,” perhaps in the least of these who surround you every day; something you can put your hands on in the simple act of giving, especially in the giving of your self.

Let those who have eyes, see, and let those who have ears, hear!

And finally, as we prepare to celebrate the Fourth of July,I am reminded of another poem, the poem found on the Statue of Liberty, “The New Colossus” by Emma Lazurus (1883)

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her nameMother of Exiles.

From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

May it be so.  Amen.