I’ll never forget the first time I preached before an annual meeting at Good Shepherd. The Gospel lesson was Luke, chapter 4, in which Jesus preaches to his hometown synagogue and nearly gets killed in the process. His offence was observing that, in Scripture, it is those outside the fold who most actively welcome the Good News.
Today, I have nothing so provocative to share, but I do come to you in anxious and turbulent times, preaching on a Gospel that invites us to repentance and mission and an Epistle centered on the wisdom and the power of the cross. I come to you also at a time of impending state budget cuts, which will weigh heavily on the life of this University, the surrounding community, and all who call this county home.
Last week, I had this in mind as I spoke to you about the double-binds that sometimes place our working lives in tension with our Christian convictions. In addition to those most directly affected by the cuts, i.e. those who may lose their jobs, I am concerned for those who may be called upon to implement policies with which they don’t necessarily agree.
In times like these, our faithfulness or its lack can make a real difference for real people. In times like these, the People of God are called to hold up the light of Christ for others. For that great light has dawned on us. We, who once sat in the region and shadow of death, have seen it. Throughout the Scriptures, God’s light breaks out in unexpected places and shines on the most unlikely people. And so, here and now, Christ is calling us--even us--to be children of light, to reflect his glory wherever we go. For we have been called and sent into a world longing for Jesus, to people who need his mercy, his justice, and his love.
As we reflect together on what it means to be faithful in this time and place, I’m reminded of words I’ve quoted to you before. They were part of an amazing sermon Bishop Breidenthal preached at our diocesan convention in 2008, as we began to feel the full extent of the economic crisis. He started with the Book of Revelation:
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “See the home of God is among mortals….. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes…. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more. For the first things have passed away”
These words, said our bishop, are so stately, so confident, so full of hope. Yet they clearly are addressed to Christians in a time of great distress, a time when our forbears longed for intimacy with God, and an end to violence, anxiety and grief. We are perhaps in such a time…We may not want this heaven and earth to pass away just yet, but we yearn for a global economy that benefits all of us locally, and for a natural order that is once again self-sustaining. We don’t want to escape from the world to God, but we do want to experience a world saturated with God’s presence. We don’t want to retreat from the world, but we want the world to be a safe place for our children and grandchildren to walk.
My sisters and brothers, our bishop continued, especially in hard times, the Gospel calls us to redoubled hope and great-hearted joy. We must be like trees that sink their roots down deeper into the soil in times of drought. Jesus is the ground that will never fail us, the source that fills us so completely that we can spread our branches out in witness to God’s trustworthiness and love.
The bishop's words proved prophetic. Two years later, at the 2010 convention, our diocese faced a $400,000 budget shortfall with no obvious solution. And yet, the delegates chose to embrace a path of discipleship and hope. We unanimously adopted a new mission statement for the diocese meant to claim our ministry as baptized people. Perhaps you’ve seen it. I put it at the top of every e-news. Here it is: “As Episcopalians in the Diocese of Southern Ohio, we commit to know the common story, proclaim our common faith, pray our common prayer, drink the common cup, and serve the common good. In the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. This is our common ministry.”
Now, I’m not one for the magic of mission statements. Some folks seem to think that sitting around and writing them is a substitute for rolling up our sleeves and getting to work. As you’ll hear downstairs, I believe common ministry will fail if it becomes a slogan rather than a way of life. When they work, mission statements summarize our priorities, engage our imaginations, and focus our energies as a community. We must never allow them to become empty words rather than a sustained labor of love and ongoing project of conversion. If they are to serve the mission of the Church, they must draw us ever deeper into the life of Christ for the sake of the world he lived and died for.
That brings us back to the prophetic words of our bishop. In times like these, we must sink our roots deeper into the rich soil of the Gospel. We must draw our strength from Christ, the true vine. We do this by knowing the common story, drinking the common cup, and praying our common prayer. In other words, God is calling us to engage more fully with the ministry of Word and sacrament and with the daily rhythm of morning and evening prayer. One of the greatest gifts of the English Reformation happened when Archbishop Cranmer translated the liturgy into the language of the people, making its blessings available in English through the Book of Common Prayer. In this 400th anniversary of the King James Bible, we should note the parallel in the first widely-used translation of the Bible into English.
What would it mean if every member of Good Shepherd, alone or in small groups, made a commitment to read and meditate on the Word of God and to pray morning or evening prayer in some form or other on a regular basis? An amazingly high proportion of Good Shepherd parishioners are already involved in one monastic community or another, with a corresponding commitment to follow a rule of life that requires a regular pattern of study, prayer, and action.
What if we as a parish made a similar commitment, one tailored to our varying individual circumstances. What if we agreed to renew our commitment to frequent communion in the Body and Blood of Christ as the center of our life together. What if we made a commitment to learn how to share these gifts of Word, sacrament, and prayer with people of all ages, including children and youth? It's a dream I have, one I've often heard articulated by members of this parish, one that demands a parish-wide, lay driven effort if we are to pursue it effectively together.
So much for the roots. Now for the branches. I’ve no doubt that the people of this parish will continue to respond creatively and faithfully to what is happening in our community, both meeting immediate needs and working for structural change. In recent years, the outreach committee has focused especially on hunger.
The three largest outreach ministries in which Good Shepherd is involved are inspiring examples of common ministry at work. The first is the Athens Country Food Pantry, which was co-founded by Good Shepherd parishioners, and for which we still provide board members, volunteers, and a good deal of financial support. The second is the free Wednesday lunch. A student saw a need and started a free meal. At first it was a simple meal, not much more than sandwiches. When she left, others took up the work. Joanne Larson stepped in right away. As the demand grew, the work was spread out among the four teams we have today. These women and men now regularly serve lunch to more than 100 people--no ID's checked, no questions asked. Many Good Shepherd parishioners participate and provide leadership for this ministry. Some of the team members have no connection to the Episcopal Church or to any church, and yet they come and provide light and hope to people in need. They also experience and provide for others the gift of community in the context of a shared meal.
The Common Friars at the Good Earth Farm have a similar origin. A visionary named Paul, together with Sarah, his wife, came with experience working on organic produce and dairy farms, a deep faith, and a desire to help God feed the hungry. They found a piece of good land, and Paul looked for the owner's name on a tax map, and wrote him a letter. It just so happened that he had a vacant farmhouse and was willing to partner with them. And their numbers grew and grew. Now, hundreds of people have volunteered there. We celebrate a weekly Eucharist that averages 16 to 24 people, sometimes as many as 40. This is followed by a community meal, making the deep connection between altar and table, between the Holy Eucharist and all sacred meals, that is the heart of the emerging theology of the Common Friars.
Now there are other ministries at Good Shepherd, most of them initiated and carried out by the laity. And they provide hope for all kinds of people in need. From the prisoners at Hocking, to those who receive prayer shawls, to the participants in the benefit bank, to the families of children with special needs to whom we are just beginning to reach out, to a music ministry second to none, the list goes on. Along with many more unnamed efforts, these are powerful ways that we are letting our light shine in a world that needs the light and hope of the Gospel. That we have spread our branches so wide indicates how deep our roots already are. Imagine what we could do together if we sank these roots still deeper.
There is no earthly reason, save hard human labor and the generosity of God's People, why any of these efforts should succeed, but by God’s grace they do. Christian ministry is always an illustration of the strange, weak power of the cross. In the end, in good and times and bad, it is God's faithfulness that makes the difference. We are a simple people, with very human flaws, on whom the light of Christ has dawned. For all our weaknesses and challenges—and they are many—we are answering God’s call to conversion and discipleship, here and now, for we have seen the Great Light.
0 comments:
Post a Comment