The Undiscovered Country

Y’varekh’kha Adonai v’yish’m’rekha.

Ya’er Adonai panav eilekha vichuneka.

Yisa Adonai panav eilekha v’yasem l’kha shalom.

Numbers 6:24–26 NRSVue

The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

Numbers 6:24-26 The priestly blessing.

This is the Hebrew letter shin which is used in one of the names of God El Shadai and in the word Shalom: peace.

Rabbis will bless a congregation with these words while holding their hands in that configuration during the high holy days in Jewish tradition.

Leonard Nimoy was a descendant of Russian Jews and he knew this symbol when he suggested it go with the Vulcan salutation. But the words that go with the salutation are also taken from the original text in numbers:

The Lord bless you and keep you. The lord’s face shine on you and be gracious to you:

Live Long and Prosper:

And the response of the other person is: Peace and Long Life

The Lord Look upon you with favor and give you peace.

All of that from scripture. All of that gravity and meaning, right there for us all to ponder if we just know where to look.

Star Trek has always been very special to me.

I was an insecure, chubby, socially awkward child, trying to carry things a five-year-old shouldn’t have to carry, especially during my parents’ divorce. And in Star Trek, I saw something made me feel better.

I saw loyalty, friendship, devotion, hope—an optimism about who we could be together.

We had a VHS recording of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, and I watched it every day after school for months—until it was taken away because they worried I was a little too attached.

But what I saw there was selfless sacrifice—the willingness to give everything for the good of others, for “the needs of the many.”

It sounds almost Christ-like, doesn’t it?

I heard that message both in Star Trek and in the church, and they reinforced each other.

They started me on a journey of listening for God speaking through all kinds of stories—if we’re willing to pay attention.

And over the next three weeks, I’d like to share some of that with you.

In our readings today: we hear of Cornelius, and Jesus’ baptism and they are related to each other. Both mark enormous shifts and changes that are made clear, boundaries that are crossed, not unlike in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country

In Star Trek VI, the galaxy changes in a single moment. A catastrophic explosion makes the old world impossible to sustain. Long-time enemies are suddenly forced to imagine a shared future they neither want nor trust.

For Captain Kirk, the Federation, and the Klingons, peace is no longer a concept—it’s a necessity. And that’s precisely the problem. Because peace requires letting go of old certainties, old identities, and deeply held fears. Kirk admits what many feel but rarely say out loud: “I’ve never trusted Klingons. And I never will.” What Kilngons are in out lives that we could say that about?

What threatens the future in the film isn’t the former enemy—it’s the resistance to change from within. Those most committed to the old order work hardest to sabotage the new one. The real conflict is not between nations, but between fear and courage, between control and trust.

The “undiscovered country” isn’t outer space. It’s the future itself—arriving before anyone feels ready for it.

And that’s exactly where today’s Scripture begins: not with certainty, not with comfort, but with God calling people to step forward into a future already unfolding—whether they’re ready or not. Whether they can see any hope in that future yet. God still calls them.

Cornelius is fascinating because he lives between worlds—socially, religiously, and politically.

He’s a Roman centurion stationed in Caesarea, the administrative heart of Judea—fully embedded in the empire that crucified Jesus. And that’s part of the shock of Acts 10: God chooses an agent of empire as the doorway for Gentile inclusion.

And yet, Cornelius worships the God of Israel.

He prays regularly, gives generously to the poor, and participates in Jewish life—

but he never becomes fully Jewish or keeps the whole purity code.

So he stands on the edge: welcomed, but not fully included; respected, but not truly belonging.

How many people has the church treated that way over the years—welcoming but not affirming?

And here’s the real twist: God doesn’t send Peter to Cornelius.

God sends Cornelius to Peter.

The outsider is already accepted; the church just hasn’t caught up yet.

Even before Cornelius sends for Peter, God is reshaping Peter’s imagination—declaring clean what he was taught to avoid and preparing him to cross a boundary he thought was fixed.

And Peter struggles with that—because he’s faithful, he follows the rules…

and rules aren’t supposed to change.

Acts 10 isn’t about Cornelius becoming acceptable to God.

It’s about Peter discovering that God has already accepted him.

Peter crosses a threshold and learns that God’s grace moves faster than the church’s categories.

Like Kirk saying he never trusted a Klingon, we all carry our own lines:

“I don’t trust them. They don’t belong here.”

But is that God talking?

God tells Peter—and tells us—they do belong.

God already trusts them. The church just needs to catch up.

God’s love is bigger than the boxes we build, and God’s compassion is wider than ours.

And if this past week—or this past year—has shown us anything, it’s what happens when people stop seeing one another as human. When dignity is stripped away, violence follows. It’s exhausting. It can feel hopeless.

But Isaiah reminds us: God’s justice is coming—quietly, faithfully.

A bruised reed won’t be broken. A dim wick won’t be quenched.

The Day of the Lord will set things right.

Star Trek imagines a future where humanity survives its worst moment: a catastrophic Third World War and rises beyond it.

Scripture promises the same hope.

God is not finished yet.

And then there is the baptism of Jesus—which we celebrate today.

Yes, we made it to the water.

In Matthew, Jesus is baptized in the Jordan River, and that matters.

The Jordan is the boundary between wilderness and promise.

It’s where Joshua steps in before the waters part.

Where Elijah crosses and Elisha is sent forward.

Where Naaman, the foreign general, is healed—not because it made sense, but because God commanded it.

And where John the Baptist calls Israel away from the Temple to begin again.

Jesus is baptized there because that is where God meets people on the edge—where the old world ends, the future is uncertain, and trust comes before understanding.

Jesus doesn’t enter the water to leave something behind, but to take something on—solidarity with Israel and with the world.

Only after Jesus steps into the water do the heavens open, the Spirit descend, and God speak.

God’s revelation follows trust. Trust in the brightest of moments and the darkest of times.

Baptism isn’t first about our transformation—it’s about God’s promise.

A promise God makes, a promise the church supports, a relationship that begins in that moment.

And that promise is for everyone—especially those who never thought they belonged.

In Star Trek VI, Captain Kirk becomes the hero not because he wins a battle, but because he learns that forgiveness is more powerful than hate, that compassion is stronger than fear. He crosses a boundary he never thought he would cross. He trusts first—before peace is guaranteed.

Peter has to do the same. So does the church. So do we. So does our nation.

Acts 10 is not about Cornelius becoming acceptable to God. It’s about Peter discovering that God has already accepted a gentile imperial administrator. Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan tells us the same thing: God acts first. The Spirit moves ahead. And then the church is invited to catch up.

We all can be agents of change and love, growing beyond our prejudices and into the promises already spoken over us in baptism—just like Peter, just like Cornelius, just like Jesus… and yes, just like Captain Kirk.

God acts first, the Spirit moves ahead, and the church learns to catch up—so next week we’ll ask what it takes to recognize Christ when God has already gone ahead of us.

Amen.