It happened in an instant. From top of the mountain to bottom of the heap--literally, the bottom of a heap.

Joe Kay was a high school golden boy. All conference basketball star. Senior Valedictorian scholastic star. Lead saxophone musical star. Joe Kay was headed to Stanford after graduation. On the night of February 6, 2004, he was leading the basketball victory of Tucson High School against their arch rivals. A glorious last moment slam dunk by Joe and the game was won. It was the perfect pinnacle of his high school career. But as the buzzer sounded the crowd of crazed, deliriously happy fans rushed to their hero, chanting "JoeKay! JoeKay!" the sport changed from basketball to football. Joe Kay wound up crushed on the bottom of a heap of adoring fans. And his world changed.

The next thing Joe Kay remembered was his coming to consciousness in the hospital. The pile of celebrating fans had become a crushing force against Kay's neck. The blood flow to his brain was cut off by a compressed carotid artery, and he suffered a massive stroke--paralysis, brain damage, a life changed forever. Writing for Sports Illustrated Rick Reilly asked the right question about this freakish tragedy: "How could a bunch of students trying to idolize high school basketball star Joe Kay paralyze him instead?" (Sports Illustrated 05 September, 2005, 174; with thanks to Landrum Leavell III for this reference).

Idol worship has never gone out of style. It's as attractive, it's as seductive, it's as popular in the twenty-first century USAmerica as it was in ancient near eastern cultures. And just as it was in the Sinai wilderness experience, idol worship can lead to disappointment and sometimes even destruction and death.

For the Israelites wandering in the wilderness, and for anyone lost in the postmodern wilderness, the line between icon and idol continues to be fine and fragile. Biblical scholars can argue that Aaron constructed the golden calf not to serve as an actual god, a pagan idol for the Israelites, but as a symbol that would point them towards Yahweh, their invisible God, during Moses' absence. But the people's behavior towards the golden calf, their burnt offerings, their raucous feasting, their riotous dancing, all betray the fact that the Israelites were more than happy to accept this human construct as their deity. It was so much easier to SEE God and worship a God one could see.

In Exodus 3:14, at the beginning of Moses' journey as Yahweh's designated spokesman, Moses has an uncomfortable definition handed down to him. When Moses asks the burning bush about the divine identity, the divine power before him declares that God's name is, "I am who I am. Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'I am' has sent me to you."

When Moses wants clarity about God's identity, all he gets is this: "I am who I am." Or in other translations: "I shall be who I shall be."

A God who is who God is; a God who will be who God will be. This isn't an easy definition to pass along to the men and women and children of Israel.

Nor is this an easy definition to pass along to the men and women and children of the twenty-first century.

Since that moment on the mountain with Moses, all the rest of us have wanted to know more than I am who I am. We think we need more than I will be who I will be. We want to pin God down: I am this . . . I am that . . . I am here . . . I am there.

We don't want the mystery of clouds and mists. We want the certainty of gold and glamour.

We don't want what our minds can't grasp, or our eyes can't see. We want what our hands can touch, and our bodies can feel.

And so we create our own golden calves, our own graven images: (use this as a karaoke for people to tell what they think our golden calves are today).

We make a golden calf of our principles and propositions. We make a golden calf of our plans and dreams. We make a golden calf of our religion and rituals. We make a golden calf of our celebrities and stars.

One of the most powerful images of the Bible has two manifestations, one in the First Testament the other in the Second Testament: Moses only being able to touch the fringe of God's garment; the hemorrhaging woman only able to touch the fringe of Jesus' garment.

Two things we learn from this: 1. We're severely limited in what we can know. 2. But we can touch the fringe; we can see through a glass dimly.

Let's look at each very briefly.

First, we're severely limited in what we can know. Those limitations express themselves in two forms: one is called "The Mountain Effect;" the other is called "The Island Effect."

a) The Mountain Effect: When you climb to the top of a mountain, you arrive only to see a host of other mountain peeks that invite climbing. And the higher the mountain you climb, the more the peaks you find.

b) The Island Effect: The greater the amount of knowledge you accumulate, the bigger your island gets, but the greater the shoreline of the unknown becomes.

What we learn from The Mountain Effect and The Island Effect is that God wants us to keep open a space of impossible possibility, of cloudy mists and mysterious fogs. We must fight the disenchantment of the world that Max Weber saw accompanying the rise of science. In the words of Paul, "how unsearchable are his judgments and his ways past finding out" (Romans 11:33). The best we can do in this life is to map the mystery.

Or in the words of poet Clifford Scott:

"The more you know the more you know how little you know. Your frustration is finite and your ignorance is infinite. The more you resolve your frustration at your ignorance, and the more you repair the damage done in your life that led to your disappointment in your ignorance, the more you may be able to love your ignorance and woo it. All new will come from what you are ignorant of now" (Clifford Scott, "Who is Afraid of Wilfred Bion?" As quoted on page 27 of Manfred F. R. Kets de Vries, Leaders, Fools, and Imposters: Essays on the Psychology of Leadership; NY: iUniverse, 2003; revised edition).

Second, we can touch the fringe.

And that touch gives us a hunger for more. That touch gave the hemorrhaging woman a hunger for more; and that touch gave Moses the hunger for more: "I want to see your face, God." But God said, "No! You're not ready. You can't see it and live . . . when you see it, you cross over to the other side."

So God doesn't give us God's face. But God does give us God's hand. And God's hand is Jesus.

Will that hand be enough this morning? Is that hand enough this morning? God told Moses, "I am who I am."

God told humanity 2000 years ago: "I am . . . Jesus."

Jesus tells us this morning, "I am . . . The Way, The Truth, and The Life" (John 14:6).