Every first Sunday of the month it is the same nagging concern.  On the first Sunday of the month as you all know, we celebrate the sacrament of the Lord's Supper.  We seek to do everything we can to make it a grand and meaningful event in our liturgical life together, white lace tablecloth, silver servingware, and the chancel filled with elders.  We share in the liturgy back and forth retelling the story of the powerful gift of God's presence in our midst.  As we work our way through the liturgy, filling nearly two pages of our bulletin, my mind always pauses in its rhythm as we get to the Sanctus, the hymn of adoration, and what I call the Holy triple threat.  When we speak this section of the liturgy it often begins "Holy, Holy, Holy God of Power and Majesty", when we sing it as we are today we will join together in the words "Holy, Holy, Lord most Holy."  Either way we join together in offering the word "Holy" three times in a single phrase.  Each time we do it I always wonder if we can recognize what we are indeed invoking in our midst.  There have been Sundays when we have spoken those "Holies" together and it as sounded as if we were joined together in the reading of the yellow pages by the nature of the monotone mumble of our voices.  More recently we have been singing the Sanctus" which has certainly improved the way in which we sound as we offer up this word in triplicate but I am not sure we can claim much understanding as to what we are singing about.
 
For myself the word "Holy" has always had a touch of baggage.  The phrase, "Holier than thou" pops into my mind.  I also think of the Holiness code from the book of Leviticus where it feels as if you tie your shoe laces the wrong way you will be banished to the outer darkness.
 
 Well there is no escaping the issue of the holy this morning.  In the vivid description of Isaiah's call narrative we hear the seraphim, which means literally the burning ones, calling out "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth if full of God's glory."  We are going to have to grapple with the holy today.
 
 In my struggle to understand the holy I was helped by an article by Paul Minear  who defines the difference between the holy and the sacred.  "'Sacredness' writes Minear, 'points to human activity oriented toward God; holiness to God's activity oriented toward people.  Sacredness is indigenous to the realm of human or institutional practice: holiness is indigenous to the realm of divine or spiritual authority.  The sacred is found wherever religion is found; the holy wherever God is present."

 This distinction helps explain my discomfort with the "H" word.  I can bandy about sacred all of the time.  I have no trouble talking about what is sacred, how we seek to create the sacred, etc.  But holy?  That is entirely another matter.  Merely placing the word in my mouth puts me in over my head.  I am right there with Isaiah knowing that my lips are not worthy to mumble a word in the presence of God's holiness.
 
 This space we worship in is a sacred space.  This congregation has worked hard to make this a place that functions as a symbol of God's glory, as a house of prayer and praise, of masterful musical offerings to the divine, of seeking to comprehend God's Word.  There is no doubt of the grandness of which we are present; the creativity and craftmenship of these stunning and evocative windows, the rich wood carvings on the pulpit, the gleam of the organ pipes, the detailed painted symbols above the chancel. Gazing around this room one is taken by all of the human ingenuity, effort, sweat and inspiration it took to create this place of worship.  It is grand and glorious.  But as we heard from Isaiah, the merest hem of God's robe would fill this space to overflowing.  We are in the midst of sacred space, the best efforts of humanity to reach toward God. But we do not create the holy, we do not summon God into our presence with the building of Westminster Church, or Saint Patrick's Cathedral, or the Sistine Chapel.  Our God exists above and beyond the even the best of our sacred human efforts.
 
 In Egyptian mythology the figure of the seraphim, the burning ones, exist to protect their god from harm.  In Isaiah's account of the God of Israel, the seraphim are not their to protect God but to sing God's praises.  The God of Israel needs no protection.  Their flapping wings are used to protect themselves from being so near to God's transcendent power.

 When we talk about the holy we are talking about something beyond any of our human limits or boundaries, we are calling out to something boundless, that reaches beyond the furthest limits of our imagination.  It almost makes me wonder why we bother to try and talk about God at all; why we even bother with our sacred rituals and buildings, and efforts, the fingertips of which do not have the power to grasp even an edge of the eternity in question.
 
 It reminds me of the story a colleague of mine shared with me about an experience he had while exercising.  He told me, "There is a man at the YMCA who works out on the indoor running track where I also used to run.  He is a peculiar kind of guy, a lawyer, gangly, 50ish, balding, all rubber and legs when he runs.  He is about the same speed as me when he jogs and for awhile we used to end up running at about the same pace around the track.  After awhile, I found he frightened me, however, and I didn't want to run very close to him.  He has a habit of muttering to himself, and bursting out with a word or phrase that spooks me.

One day I found myself jogging near him and he burst out with the word "Glory!!" loud enough to scare the horses, followed by a long silence, heavy breathing, pacing, and then, again, "Glory!!" Well it was just too much, and I wasn't seeing what he was seeing to make me join his chorus so I started slowing my pace, letting him get as far away from me as I could."

 My friend has never figured out what made that man shout glory, a figment of his imagination, a revelation from above, or some imbalance in his brain chemistry.  But sometimes I wonder the same questions about us when we shout out "Holy" as if we knew what we were talking about, as if it were some quantity we could consume.

 The entire endeavor would be absurd, if this transcendent God did not reach for us, did not make the choice to join us in the midst of our imperfect sacred efforts and be present with us.  Even when the communion bread is stale, and the preacher babbles on too long, and our mind wanders during the prayers, for reasons beyond my understanding, God shows up anyway.  And the same is true for our imperfect lives.  It is not up to us to create perfection for God to bring the holiness into this room and into our daily living.

 Recognizing God's holiness, God's total otherness should not serve to create a feeling for us that God is distant from us.  It should serve to remind us that the world does not rest upon our shoulders.  "Holy Holy Holy", it is not my job to be perfect.  "Holy, Holy, Holy" it is not my responsibility to solve every problem in the world.  "Holy, Holy, Holy" it is God alone who bears the ultimate authority.  "Holy, Holy, Holy" it is God alone who chooses to reach across from a place of transcendence to love and care for all of creation and each one of us.  "Holy, Holy, Lord most Holy, God of power and God of might; Heaven and earth reveal your glory, hail Hosanna Lord of light!

Amen.