Making Christ's Body Whole

Sermon for Sunday, Nov. 17
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13

In the announcements over the past few weeks, you may have noticed a new request about those blue and white cards in the pew racks.  In addition to asking you to share your prayer requests and pastoral concerns, we’re asking you to let us know who’s missing.  I have to admit that I am terrible at noticing who is and isn’t here on a given Sunday.  I have some gifts and skills, but that is not one of them.  So, on those prayer cards, we’re asking you to share who you’ve been missing, so we can check in and follow up.

That’s important because it helps us do better pastoral care, but it also illustrates a theological truth: that the body isn’t whole without each of us.  As the apostle Paul wrote to the Christians in Corinth, just as each of us has a body that “is one and has many members” – hands and feet and eyes and ears – “so it is with Christ. …  You are the body of Christ and individually members of it.” (1 Cor 12:1,27).  We, together, make up Christ’s body in this congregation and Christ’s body sent into the world, equipped with the gifts God specifically wants to share with this world God loves, all those gifts empowered by the same Holy Spirit (1 Cor 12:11). 

The young man you just heard from, Brandon Kirmer, is a case study.  Without Brandon – without his presence with us these 18 years, without his ability to play a mean tenor sax, without his work as an Eagle Scout, without his service as an acolyte, without his presence in youth ministry, without his heart – our congregation and our world would be so much the poorer.  Right?  And so it is with each of us.  The body of Christ isn’t whole without you.

So, the apostle Paul would have agreed with that statement, but he might have added some attitude: “Yes, you’re part of the body of Christ – so get off your behinds and get to work.”  At least that’s the attitude I hear in the second reading this morning.  Yes, Jesus is coming back, Paul says to the Christians in Thessalonica, but he’s not coming back next week.  So, you can’t just take it easy or, worse, diddle around causing trouble in the church.  You’ve got to do your part, Paul says.  Our actions today matter.  Christ has work to do in this world, now, and you’re an essential part of it.  So, he exhorts the folks there in Thessalonica to keep their noses out of each other’s business and “do their work,” never growing “weary in doing what is right” (3:12,13).  The affliction he sees and names there in Thessalonica is “idleness” (2 Thess 3:6).

Well, if that’s the standard, then we are exceptionally blessed at St. Andrew’s because idleness isn’t exactly a spiritual affliction here.  And when I look around and consider the incredibly faithful work being done by so many of you, it’s enough to make me just stop and say, “Wow.  Thank you.”

For example: We are blessed with exceptional staff doing exceptional ministry, lay and ordained.  They don’t just put in hours but put in hearts and minds and souls for God’s work here.  I have never worked with such a collection of people on a mission.  And just to call out one, the last person who’d want to be called out: Mary Sanders.  Mary is like a juggler who has a new ball thrown at her every day.  And yet, she offers herself with an ethos of self-giving the likes of which I’ve seen maybe one other time in all my working life.

In addition to a great staff, we’re blessed here with hands-on lay leadership.  You know, in some churches, vestries function as a gaggle of critics.  In other, healthier, places, vestries function as a board of directors, and that’s good.  Here, your Vestry functions not just with board responsibility but also as parish ministry council, each member taking ownership of some aspect of our congregation’s life, from children’s ministry, to finance, to discernment, to parish engagement.  And our executive team, the wardens and treasurer – they put in uncounted hours to help realize God’s call to this congregation, that we would change hearts and thereby change the world.  Again, here’s someone who wouldn’t want to be called out but whom I’ll call out anyway – senior warden Melissa Rock, a force of nature in so many ministries here.  I am blessed, like no other priest I know, to have colleagues in collaborative leadership.

And we’re blessed with ministry commissions collaborating with staff and clergy in every facet of life here.  Again, from youth ministry, to outreach, to adult formation – all the work you see going on here, all the groups you find out about as they host coffee hour – all this work is led by people whom God has raised up and empowered and impassioned to care for this parish and to reveal God’s love.

And we’re blessed with people doing the work of the faithful, day to day and week to week.  We have prayer warriors and pastoral-care givers, officially and especially unofficially.  We have hospitality volunteers, and folks serving coffee at HJ’s each morning, and people who tend the gardens.  And we have the people here right now doing liturgy, which means the work of the people – saints of God singing Good News, and serving us Christ’s body, and proclaiming God’s Word, and greeting folks as they come in, and leading us in prayer.  As beautiful and holy as it is to enter into the courts of the Lord here, our worship is no spectator sport.  Everyone in the room is part of God’s people called to come together, in common prayer, to offer our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving.

And, we are blessed with people who give financially to make everything I’ve named possible.  There is no such thing as “just” giving money in support of God’s work.  The apostle Paul named it specifically in his list of spiritual gifts, listing “the giver” right up there with the minister, and the prophet, and the teacher, and the preacher, and the leader, and the one who loves others with deep compassion (Romans 12:6-7). 

So, clearly, with all these amazing people doing all these amazing things, we are not afflicted with idleness.  And – not “but” but “and” – here’s another holy truth to hold up alongside that: Jesus needs you to make his body complete.  None of us has all the gifts that Christ’s body needs, but each of us has some of them.  And offering all those gifts begins in the same place: in prayer, in the commitment of ourselves to take a next step, each day, in the process of discovering joy in our journey of discipleship.  Every day, each of us can offer to God the gift I think God wants first and foremost, which is simply a conversation.  I promise you that as you reach out to God, God will reach back to you.  And that giving and receiving of connection is the spark for every other way God longs to come alongside you, to partner with you, to collaborate with you, in making your life and this world reveal love just that much more.

We’re a week away from the conclusion of our stewardship season.  Next Sunday is St. Andrew’s Sunday; and in addition to wearing tartan, and hearing bagpipes, and singing our St. Andrew’s hymn, and everything else on that wonderful day, we’ll gather our pledges of giving for 2020, and we’ll bless them here on God’s altar.  Those pledges are sacraments, outward and visible signs of your connection with God and outward and visible signs of the Body of Christ alive and well and changing lives here. 

Our goal is that every household will make a pledge.  I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true.  If you already have made a pledge, thank you so much for that.  If you haven’t yet, let me ask you please to do so.  Like I always say, the amount of money you pledge is not the point.  I would absolutely love for us to receive hundreds of new pledges to give $1 in 2020.  The point is not the amount.  The point is your commitment.  The point is the outward and visible “yes.”  The point is the unbelievable, even shocking, truth that God desires every last one of us to offer precisely what we’ve been equipped to offer, warts and all.  The point is this: that Christ’s body isn’t whole without you.

So, I’m tempted to ask you to chant that together.  But I imagine many of you probably would react to that like I would, muttering it dutifully while resenting being asked to say something out loud when you’re not sure how you really feel about it.  So, let me invite you to do something else instead. 

In a few minutes, we’ll come forward for Communion.  You’ll come here to God’s altar or there to a standing station, and members of your parish family will serve you bread and wine.  But, of course, we’d say it’s not just bread and wine that we receive because Jesus is really, fully present in that bread and wine, and in the assembly of all of us gathered here.  When we come to the Table, we receive nothing less than the Body of Christ empowering us to be nothing less than the Body of Christ.  As St. Augustine said about the consecrated bread and wine, “Be what you see; receive what you are.”¹  So, here’s my invitation:  When you come forward and put out your hands to receive the Body and Blood of Jesus, pray this stunning truth:  “Christ’s body isn’t whole without me.” 

And then – when our worship is over and our service begins – go out and live that way.

1.       “Augustine on the nature of the Sacrament of the Eucharist: Sermon 272, Latin text with English translation.” Available at: https://earlychurchtexts.com/public/augustine_sermon_272_eucharist.htm.  Accessed Nov. 15, 2019.

Stepping Into Sainthood

Sermon for All Saints' Sunday, Nov. 3, 2019
Ephesians 1:11-23; Luke 6:20-31

We’re celebrating the feast of All Saints this morning.  And I think that raises a question that often comes without a good, clear answer:  What does it take to be a saint?  What gets you into the club of that cloud of witnesses we remember today?

I hope to be able to give you an answer to that question.  But first, I want to share with you the story of a saint you’ve probably never heard of, unless you come to the Friday noon Eucharist and his feast day happened to come up.  This saint’s name is Samuel Isaac Joseph Schereschewsky, and his feast day was a couple of weeks ago.¹  

He was born in Lithuania in 1836 and grew up a devout Jew.  As a young man, he moved to Germany to study to be a rabbi, but he found Christianity instead.  At 23, he left Europe and came to America, intending to be a Presbyterian minister.  Instead, his journey took him to the Episcopal Church.  He went to seminary, and as soon as he was ordained, Schereschewsky heard God calling him to move again.  This was the mid-19^th century, a time of witness and evangelization in Asia for the Episcopal Church; so Schereschewsky set out for China, learning Mandarin while he was on the ship.  Once in China, in addition to serving as a priest, he translated parts of the Bible and the Prayer Book into Mandarin.  Eventually, in 1877, he became bishop of Shanghai but also began translating the Bible into another Chinese language, Wenli.  He kept going until Parkinson’s disease forced him to resign as bishop, but even then he didn’t retire.  Instead, though limited in his movement, he spent the next 20-plus years translating Scripture into Wenli, typing 2,000 pages with one finger of his disabled hand.

Yeah, that sounds like the story of a saint.  But I’d invite you to hear it as something other than a story of holy accomplishments.  When we think about what it takes to be a saint, we usually start listing achievements or miracles or acts of service, as if sainthood came from earning enough points on a scorecard.  Instead, think about this aspect of the story of Samuel Isaac Joseph Schereschewsky:  He never stopped moving.  Certainly, his travels bear that out, but so does his spiritual journey.  Even when he couldn’t move physically, he never stopped moving forward toward a life with God at its center.

That’s what I think it takes to be a saint: choosing a journey of transformation, a journey of heavenly intent.

Actually, I would say that a journey is also a good way of understanding God’s promise to the saints, the promise of eternal life.  Again, we often think of that in terms of achievement – getting to heaven, where presumably the journey stops.  You’ve probably heard me say this before, but I think it makes more sense to see eternal life as a work in progress, a story in three chapters.  And, by the way, you can see each of these stages in that great hymn we’re singing this morning, “For All the Saints” (Hymnal 1982, 287)

Chapter 1 is now, as we live in the kingdom of heaven that’s among us, as Jesus said; and we see it in those moments of blessing when we’re able to transcend ourselves and live out the call we heard in today’s Gospel reading – what the Greeks called kenosis, the call to empty ourselves.  What’s that look like?  Well, Jesus said, love your enemies.  Do good to those who hate you.  Bless those who curse you.  If someone strikes your cheek, give them the other cheek.  If someone takes your coat, give them your shirt, too.  Give to everyone who begs from you.  In a nutshell, do to others as you would have them do to you.  Eternal life, Chapter 1, is all about the blessedness of giving ourselves away.

Chapter 2 is what we usually imagine as heaven – the paradise of blessed rest.  It’s the stage of eternal life we see in that glorious window in the columbarium, appropriately with saints at rest all around it.  As the window says, it’s a stage of deep thanksgiving, with the peace of God ruling in our hearts.  Sounds pretty good to me.

But even that’s not the end, for there is no end to this story, just the next chapter.  Chapter 3 is our real hope, the fullness of joy, the end time that’s not an ending – when God brings earth and heaven back into the unity God intended in the beginning, with all of us saints rising into life and relationship richer and more rewarding than we ever knew possible.  That’s the life that goes on, the journey that literally never ends.

We start off on that journey toward heavenly transformation right here in this pool of baptismal water.  Though the pool is small, its power is vast.  As we’ll pray in a few minutes: In it, we are buried with Christ in his death.  “By it, we share in his resurrection.  Through it, we are reborn by the Holy Spirit.” (BCP 306).  And when we take these steps of dying and rising again, we’re marked with the sign of the cross, in oil blessed through ancient apostolic prayers, to help us remember what we heard in the reading from Ephesians: that we are sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.  In ancient times, a ruler marked his seal on what belonged to him, what received his protection and shared in his power.  And so it is with us.  We are we sealed by the Holy Spirit as a pledge of our inheritance as the people who belong to God, the saints in light.

After those first few steps through this water of baptism, for the rest of our days, God yearns for us to keep moving along a journey of joy.  If that sounds familiar, it should – it’s the theme of this year’s stewardship season, “discovering joy in the journey.”  I believe that’s actually God’s longing for us: that we would keep moving toward heavenly transformation, not because it adds points to our scorecard or because God can’t do holy work without us, but because it delights God to see us coming closer, just as it delights a parent when your child runs into your arms.

Well, if we saints are on a journey, then we probably need a map – maybe even an app to download onto our hearts so we can see where our blue dot is right now, compared with our heavenly destination.  You can map a journey from many different perspectives, but I like the one that guides the spiritual assessment we’re making right now as a congregation.  So, this is my shameless plug, where I ask you to take the Spiritual Life Inventory.  There’s a link to it in the e-newsletter you received yesterday; you can find it through our website; and there are paper copies in the entryway.  This inventory will help us find where we are on our collective spiritual journey and – more important – how we can serve you better as you take your own heavenly path. 

It’s a journey that starts with exploration – exploring a life with God – and moves through stages of growing that relationship, and deepening that relationship, and eventually finding that our life has God at its center, the focal point of all our work and relationships.  If the journey of a saint takes those four stages – exploring, growing, deepening, and centering yourself in relationship with God – then St. Andrew’s needs to be guiding people intentionally along the path through those four stages.  That’s what this assessment process will help us build – our capacity to be the map, or app, that helps you chart your heavenly course.  So, please, take the assessment and help us serve you better.

So, if the journey of a saint takes those four stages – exploring, growing, deepening, and centering yourself in relationship with God – then where are you?  That will be the next spiritual inventory we’ll offer, in the new year, when you’ll get the opportunity to learn where you yourself stand in your journey.  But even at a gut level, without looking at a personalized map, I’ll bet you have a pretty fair sense of where you are.  Are you exploring a life with God?  Or growing a life with God?  Or deepening in life with God?  Or living with God at your center? 

Wherever you are, if you’re leaning into the call, you’re a saint.  Now, your saintly journey doesn’t have to merit a special day on the calendar.  You don’t have to travel from Lithuania to Shanghai, or from being Jewish to Presbyterian to Episcopalian.  You don’t have to translate the Bible into different languages or type it out with only one finger.  You just have to take a step. 

So, what’s yours?  If you find God in prayer with others, we’ve got Morning Prayer at HJ’s three times a week and contemplative prayer on Thursday evenings.  If you find Jesus especially present in the Eucharist, try out the 45-minute service on Fridays at noon.  If you find God in serving others, you’ll see opportunities in the bulletin every week.  If you find God in study and conversation, we have more than a dozen classes and groups, from Bible and book studies, to the aptly-named “Christian Journey,” to groups of married couples, to the Back Porch Alliance.  And, if you find alone – on a walk, or reading Scripture, or over a cup of coffee – it only takes setting aside a few minutes a day.  Wherever you find God, if you’d like to talk about what’s next for you, Mtr. Anne or Fr. Jeff or Deacon Bruce or Jean Long or I would love to help you discern what that may be.

Whatever it is – just take a step.  Aspiring to sainthood is simply leaning forward and running into the arms of the God who loves you more than you can imagine … at least more than you can imagine so far. 

1.      For Schereschewsky’s story, see http://satucket.com/lectionary/SIJSchereschewski.htm or, for more information, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_Isaac_Joseph_Schereschewsky.