A Sermon in Search of a Title

We had finally taken the leap.

After weeks of regular attendance, of our children getting used to the Sunday School, of us meeting enough folks to think we’d fit in, of listening to enough sermons to know that we hadn’t heard the only good one of the year, we checked the box on the sign-in sheet that said, “wish to join.”

It was a bit of a moment for us – after spending every Sunday for 7 years together, we’d not settled on a church – mostly because we hadn’t attended any.

After being confirmed in a Missouri Synod Lutheran Church while in boarding school, I rarely darkened the door of a church.

Church was not a “blip” on the weekly radar.

Yet, despite our lackluster attention to our spiritual lives, we were asked to be “godparents” for some friends’ newborn daughter.

With no idea of what was expected, we quickly and happily accepted.

That sacred duty meant of course, that we’d have to actually go to a church.

To church we went and a few months later, were checking that ominous box on the sign-in sheet.

On the Sunday of the baptism and for the first time in my adult life, I heard someone answer the “so what?” question. For the first time that I could recall, someone made religion relevant. For the first time someone talked about religion, politics, and culture all in the same paragraph. For the first time I heard a call to justice, and kindness, and humility. For the first time I felt that “strange warming of the heart” when God’s spirit began to take hold and I understood that life was more than getting ahead, getting even, or getting your share. For the first time, I heard about love, and acceptance, and welcome, and gratitude, and forgiveness. For the first time, I felt as though I was in the presence of God – and it was humbling and comforting and frightening all in the same moment.

It was in those same pews, years later, that I gave me life to serving God in this particular way.

Because we had checked that decisive no-going-back-now box – we received a call from the church a day later setting up a time for the pastor to visit. We set a date, pulled out the vacuum, cleaned up the place and in short order, were ready for our first pastoral home visit.

All went well – I recall being strangely comforted when he accepted a beer – at end the very end I asked what was expected of us as members. The answer was very straight-forward:

• to show up on Sundays – regularly
•  to participate in the life of the church – not treating it as a menu of what we might want to do – but because people who belong to something support it and they make it a priority.
• to give money.

To that last point I asked about frequency of giving – for instance, I suggested, could I just write one check a year? To that he said, “If you can write one check a year, you’re not giving enough!”

That first adult experience of church set a template and standard for all subsequent church involvement, including pastoral leadership.

It is my expectation that when someone joins First & Central, that they’ll be here on Sunday mornings – and not just when they don’t have something better to do – but to choose against something just to be here. It’s my expectation that when First & Central has a lecture, a concert, a fellowship event, a special service, a book study, a spirituality group, a committee meeting that a significant percentage of the congregation will participate and show up. It’s also my expectation that people who make the decision to join will give money to the church to insure that it continues to operate, that its programs are funded, that its staff is paid fairly and equitably, that its facilities are well-maintain, and that mission and outreach giving is robust.

In short, unless church membership changes the way in which we live our lives, we really don’t belong – at best – we subscribe.

Lest we think this is something of a modern problem or rant, we should remember that the meaning of membership is a nagging question in Christianity’s DNA.

Just 20 years after Jesus’ death, Paul, while imprisoned, attempted to answer that question.

The folks in the church at Philippi had mostly come from the Jewish community and their early practices and teachings were deeply ingrained. Those early followers were asking, “All the love stuff if groovy – but what change happens in our daily lives?” Just what, they were demanding to know, is required of followers of Jesus? They heard the preaching – now they wanted the “so what!”

Paul zeros in on two women of the church who were embroiled in a dispute – imagine, discord in the church! – and Paul was concerned that their squabble might grow into full-blown schism. Consequently he enlisted the aid of the members of the community to “help these women” be of the same mind as Christ.

He’s not prescriptive. He doesn’t lay out a step-by-step conflict management protocol. The Bible is not “life’s little instruction book” – but rather our path as sisters and brothers unfolds when one takes steps to help another negotiate the travails of ordinary life. Paul simply says help them discover in themselves the same mind, the same attitude, the same posture, the same inclination as Christ.

In Presbyterian-speak we call that “mutual forbearance” and it’s one of the foundations of our way of doing business. In some circles it means “agreeing to disagree” but over time I’ve grown to think of it as “cutting each other some slack.” Giving each other the benefit of the doubt, showing some patience, leniency, tolerance, understanding, and not jumping down the other’s throat. “Mutual” forbearance means that it’s a two-way street and the slack you cut one day might be your lifeline the next.

Every long-term relationship eventually grates and grinds. Romantic, employment, friendship, or civic – every long-term relationship chafes and jostles. We can respond with friction-inducing ultimatums, we can throw a very satisfying tantrum, we can even rant from the pulpit – but if we are to put on the mind of Christ – we reach for and practice mutual forbearance. In the words of Paul, “Let your gentleness be known to everyone!”

Not called to be a doormat, not called to acquiesce to positions untenable, not called to subjugate our own firmly held convictions – simply called to show restraint, patience, and moderation in how we treat one another and how we discuss difficult, even controversial topics.

Last Thursday evening, First & Central, along with the Delaware Humanities Forum, co-hosted a talk by Dr. Mark Jordan of Harvard Divinity School. His topic was “Where do religious voices belong in public conversations on same-sex marriage?” It was informative and provocative and very well-attended by the general public, as the two F&C members that showed up can attest. It’s the kind of discourse that’s needed and I’m so proud that this church was able to host.

Dr. Jordan offered 3 conditions that conversations about same-gender marriage should have:

• Be responsible when representing “marriage” in religion and the Bible. In other words, read the text and be prepared to recognize that the Bible supports polygamy more often than it mentions monogamy, and the New Testament writers don’t appear to be much in favor of the institution at all!
• Be responsible for expressing an opinion on behalf of a diverse Christian group. It’s not accurate to say that “Christians oppose same-gender marriage!” for I’m guessing I may find an exception or two that statement among the Christians gathered here.
• Be candid whether or not you have a stake in the outcome of the conversation. What’s at stake for us, personally, if the “other side” is right and we’re wrong? Would that undermine our neatly stacked foundation of biblical principles or would it weaken our firm grip on knowing God’s every intention and action? What’s at stake if we’re wrong? What’s at stake for folks on the other side of the argument if they’re wrong? Be candid and don’t settle for slogans – from ourselves or others.

Given that the PCUSA ordained its first openly gay minister just 24 hours ago and that shock-wave is still reverberating through the denomination, my guess is that same-gender marriage will soon take the front seat as we battle out yet another ounce of inclusion, justice, and welcome. Dr. Jordan’s conditions, and surely others, will be vital to keeping the conversation honest, unvarnished, and out of the muck and mire of bumper-sticker theology.

Paul would instruct us:

Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned …, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into [God’s] most excellent harmonies. (Philippians 4:8-9, The Message)

Harmony…the blending of voices – not the lock-step of unison, but the diversity of varying pitch and even cadence, yet without the discord of competition and impatience.

What’s expected of the followers of Christ? The work of Christians is this:

To build a community of people, who can sustain one another in the journey of faith, reminding each other of the goal, but even more, of the joy of attending the journey itself, no matter how arduous. (with thanks to David B. Burrell as published in Feasting on the Word, Volume 4 of Year A, page 162.)

I’ve been plain-spoken in my sermon-with-no-title about involvement in the church and I’d invite your response, in the spirit of mutual forbearance, to share your expectations of membership, and your expectations of the church. Be open and direct about programs we offer, the events we sponsor, the groups to whom we open our doors, the way in which we spend money, and the people and places we seek to serve.

Together, we’ll put into practice what we’ve learned – what we heard and saw and realized – and together, God will work us into the most excellent of harmonies.

Amen.