Look for the Stumbling Blocks

Sermon for Sept. 26, 2021

Mark 9:38-50

That Gospel reading is not exactly a preacher’s favorite.  Not only does it threaten us with hell; it also gives us the lovely option of cutting off our hands or plucking out our eyes in order to avoid it.  But once we drill down into the reading a bit, the message is compelling – a message for us as individuals, of course, but also for congregations and denominations.  

If you remember the Gospel reading and Mtr. Melissa’s sermon last week, you know the disciples had been arguing among themselves about which of them was the greatest.  And Jesus had told them to empty themselves of their desire for greatness by becoming servants of all and welcoming the lowly. 

Well, today, the disciple John reports to Jesus that the group had come across a healer casting out demons in Jesus’ name.  But they’d tried to stop him, John says, “because he was not following us” (Mark 9:38).  Now, the irony here is that, 10 verses earlier, Jesus’ disciples had failed at the same task when they tried to cast out a demon.  Maybe they were envious of this other healer who was getting the job done, so they tried to stop him in order to hang on to their own sense of power and prestige as part of Team Jesus.  

So, Jesus again has to correct his friends.  He tells them that if they put a stumbling block in the way of people actually doing the work of God’s kingdom, whether that work is officially authorized or not, they’re putting themselves at risk of being separated from God for the long term.  Better to lose what you value most now, Jesus says – to let go of your power, your authority, your privilege – than to stand in God’s way of connecting with others.

I’m afraid hanging onto power and privilege remains a temptation for the Church as an institution and for the Church as you and me.  Sometimes we cling to what we value even though it can get in the way.  It’s been a long, slow process for The Episcopal Church to learn to communicate with people in language, sounds, and symbols that resonate with the life folks are living the other six and a half days of the week.  Overall – albeit slowly – I think the Church is doing a better job of that, learning that we have to think about the people we’re speaking with more than we think about how much we enjoy the way we speak.

But we’ve always got to ask ourselves:  What’s still standing in the way?  And when we find those potential stumbling blocks, how do we remove them without damaging the rest of the road?

Here’s an example.  As you probably know, you don’t have to be a member of The Episcopal Church in order to receive Holy Communion here.  We want as many people as possible to receive Jesus’ body and blood because it brings us forgiveness of our sins, binds us together in love, and empowers us to be the body of Christ serving the world.  It’s a practice often called “open Communion,” and I value it deeply as an example of the Church trying to get out of Jesus’ way so he can reach people and heal them.

What isn’t so widely known is that, even in our Episcopal Church, Communion isn’t as open as it seems.  The Church’s canons, its laws, say that one must be baptized to receive Communion – Canon I.17.7, in fact.¹  Actually, this has been Christian practice for thousands of years.  The argument is that the Church’s mission, as Matthew’s Gospel frames it, is to make disciples, baptizing people and teaching them all that Jesus commanded (28:19-20).  Forming people in the faith and leading them to the commitment of baptism – this is how we’ve brought people into Jesus’ community, the Church.  Then, Communion is the way the Church remembers Jesus, receives his forgiveness and healing, and receives his power to go and serve.  That’s the model Christianity has been using since ancient times – the commitment of baptism, followed by the empowerment of Communion.²

But of course, life’s more complicated than that.  The Church’s rules are the Church’s rules, and I respect them.  But honestly, limiting Communion to baptized people has always seemed wrong to me, at a gut level.  It feels inhospitable at best, exclusionary at worst.  If a congregation is the body of Christ in a particular place and time, the question arises – whom would Jesus refuse to serve?  Plus, the experience of receiving Jesus’ body and blood can be deeply moving, even converting, for someone who hasn’t known God’s love “up close and personal” before.  I don’t want to deny someone that possibility, so I don’t enforce the rule – along with every other priest I know.  We don’t check IDs in the Communion line.

Ninety-nine percent of the time, that approach works.  I don’t ask, and people don’t tell.  But recently, I had a situation where I hadn’t asked, but someone told anyway.  A person whom I knew wasn’t baptized came to St. Andrew’s and came up for Communion.  In my mind’s eye, there was Canon I.17.7, flashing like a highway sign.  Of course, I served her; and I pray the experience brought the love of Jesus directly into her heart. 

But I also pray that neither she nor I stops there.  To me, it’s absolutely right to welcome someone with Communion.  But what needs to come next is conversation, and learning, and commitment, and the new life that wells up from the waters of baptism.  So, I would say to this person:  Yes, as the gift of Communion shows, you are welcome here, no matter what – welcome to be on a journey that will change you forever if you commit yourself to taking it.

So, there’s an example of how the Church’s official practice could be a stumbling block for someone who’s seeking deeper connection with God.  But what about our unofficial practices?  We’ve just started our Discovery class, a six-week introduction to who we are as the Episcopal branch of the Jesus movement – how we got here, why we worship the way we do, what we believe, and what it means to follow Jesus in day-to-day life.  I love the class … and I always worry a bit that sharing what’s special about the Episcopal way of being Christian could shine the light in the wrong place, highlighting why we’re so great rather than the greatness of the One we serve.

As with most potential stumbling blocks, probably the best way to keep from tripping over them is simply to look out for them.  Whether in the Church or in our own lives, the things we treasure can easily become idols.  Our roles in the life of the Church can easily become opportunities to judge those whom we might see as lesser.  And that’s especially tempting when, like the disciples, we feel threatened by the fact that someone else’s experience of God maybe seems richer or fuller than ours.  For the disciples, the effective healer who wasn’t on the right team was a threat.  For us, we can also be tempted to guard our sense of who we’ve always been or what we’ve always done, even to the extent of stifling the movement of the Holy Spirit. 

As a Church and as individuals, even though we treasure what we know and love, we’ve also got to be a little suspicious of it.  The unwritten rules may say that we dress a certain way, or that we speak a certain way, or that only a certain kind of person ends up in leadership.  We’ve got to look out for stumbling blocks like those by asking ourselves:  What do I need to let go of, what do I need to set aside, in order to see Jesus’ road ahead more clearly?

1.      Canon I.17.7 reads, “No unbaptized person shall be eligible to receive Holy Communion in this Church.” The Constitution and Canons are available at: https://www.episcopalarchives.org/sites/default/files/publications/2018_CandC.pdf. Accessed Sept. 24, 2021.

2.      For a review of the question of open or closed Communion – its history, theology, and Scriptural warrant – see Meyers, Ruth A.  “Who May Be Invited to the Table?”  Anglican Theological Review, vol. 94, no. 2, Spring 2012, 233-244.  Available at: http://www.anglicantheologicalreview.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/meyers_.pdf.