Maybe you read or heard about it in the last couple of weeks. How the temple was desecrated. Yes, the synagogue in Mohegan Lake that was trashed ten days ago by three misguided teenage girls. The community came together in a show of support last Sunday, and were it not for a wedding, I would gladly have represented Grace. But there was another temple desecrated, and I use the term purposely. We don't usually think of a sports stadium as a temple, but a temple is a place of worship, and men and women alike tend to worship and idolize athletes who are rich and famous beyond we mere mortals. The new Yankee Stadium might be the Vatican among stadiums, and so when it was desecrated two weeks ago, there were headlines around the world. I'll paraphrase one news article: "So why did the builders of the new Yankee Stadium spend five hours and $50,000 digging through two feet of concrete last week? To extract a Red Sox jersey that had been secretly buried by a construction worker in the concrete floor. It goes without saying he is a Red Sox fan. Another worker who had seen the shirt go into the slab got worried and told authorities. The 1.3 billion dollar project, was brought to a screeching halt, because the Yankee brass and fans believed in the jinxing power of a piece of cloth submerged in a concrete floor." You can't make this stuff up.

It could be argued that the chief problem with our world is not a pervasive atheism: too many people believing there is no God. The real problem is a pervasive deism: too many people have too many gods. This is nothing new. St. Paul encountered it long ago in downtown Athens, arguably the brightest and most sophisticated city in the world.

Paul is in Athens, seeking to share the Good News of Jesus. He has been all over the Mediterranean map starting churches and preaching like there's no tomorrow, offering to those who listened, a brand new tomorrow. But for whatever reason, Athens turns out to be the only place in which Paul fails in his quest to plant a church. I picture Paul visiting Athens, taking in the sights, perhaps marveling at the Acropolis and the white marble of the Parthenon, the Temple of Athena, the goddess of wisdom. Can you imagine? The Greeks are so into their intellectual quest that they name their chief city Wisdom - Athens. In addition to being wise, these people are also religious. This, Paul acknowledges. "Athenians, I see how extremely religious you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, 'To an unknown god.'" The citizens of Athens are like so many folks in that long-ago world and our world today. People are searching for meaning. People are searching for something to live for. People are searching even for something worth dying for.

Paul gets right to the point in dealing with the Athenians and their search for meaning. "What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things. From one ancestor he made all nations to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him - though indeed he is not far from each one of us." Even as I share this, it's almost as if I have to stifle a yawn. Boooring.

Could this be the reason Paul fails in Athens to plant a church? He presents a wonderful, intellectually stimulating sermon, but Paul fails to tell a story. The story. You know the one: the "Jesus loves me this I know" story. Paul does not talk Jesus.

In an attempt to create an atmosphere of meditation prior to church, we placed a sign in the narthex asking, "please prepare your hearts and minds for worship." Well, in a city where people worship the goddess of wisdom, Paul appeals to the mind but forgets to touch the heart. As he tries to persuade people that he knows the identity of their unknown god ... Paul needs to talk Jesus.

Let me be candid. Like most preachers I put a lot of time in sermon preparation. And I like to think on any given Sunday one person or another might be moved by the sermon. On any given Sunday. However, it would not surprise me, nor would I be disappointed, if the sermon that most touched people is the children's sermon. In talking to children ... the preacher appeals to the heart. I commend both Karen and Sarah in their telling of the story.

A memorial service was held yesterday at St. Matthew's Lutheran in White Plains for our former Bishop, William Lazareth. Bishop Lazareth was a brilliant man. He was a seminary professor who wrote several theological books, including "Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry," the preeminent guide for Christian churches striving to understand each other as they move closer to visible unity. And yet, for all his intellectual firepower, Dr. Lazareth could tell the story of Jesus in such a way, that both heart and mind were touched. In his memory, and because it fits well with our text, I share one such story.

"I was too young to be drafted for World War II," he begins, but after the war ended, I volunteered to go to Europe to help Lutheran World Relief begin the long task of rebuilding. Rebuilding not buildings, but lives. I was in Norway, and I became good friends with a young man whose father was the mayor of the small fishing village where I lived. This young man told me much about the war years and the terrible trials of living under the Nazi occupation. He told me, 'One Easter Sunday, just after our Minister of Defense handed over Norway to the Germans, the command came down. We were told that on the following Sunday, worship would be postponed until the afternoon. In the morning there was to be a political rally to celebrate our new freedom. Well, the people of my town gathered all right ... and then began a procession to the cathedral. When we got there, we found German soldiers surrounding the place. We stopped. We children looked to the adults to find out what to do. The adults looked to the clergy. The clergy looked to the mayor. My father. My father, the mayor, looked to the toes of his shoes.

'We began to sing, "A Mighty Fortress is our God." When we finished the first verse, a German commander came over and said there will be no second verse. And to emphasize the point, he grabbed a young lady with a child in her arms. "If you sing a second verse, this woman and her child will be shot." There was silence. And then a voice began to sing the second verse, "Did we in our own strength confide...." Others chimed in, "our striving would be losing." Bishop Lazareth continued, "I said to my friend, 'Didn't those people realize the danger to that young mother?' And my friend replied, 'Bill, who do you think started the second verse?'"

There is a story with power. That woman with her infant in her arms and with a song on her lips, surely had faith in her heart. She knew the Jesus story - a story that gave ultimate meaning to her life - so much meaning that she was willing to give up her life as a witness to others.

Three misguided teenage girls, trashing a synagogue. Had they heard the story of Jesus? If so, the story had not yet taken root. In a story that went around the world, people got all bent out of shape because a Red Sox jersey found it's way into the concrete of the new Yankee temple. Do some people find ultimate meaning in life by the success of the teams they root for?

You are here this morning as a witness that you hold Jesus Christ as your ultimate meaning. He is worth living for! He is worth dying for! And don't you agree? He is worth talking about! We have countless opportunities to share our faith; in so doing, we just might change a life. And if we change one life for the better, surely we change many. Do you tell the story? Or when it comes to Jesus are you quiet, as you look to the toes of your shoes?