A Sermon by Fr. Davenport, June 7, 2009, Year B

Trinity Sunday

Isaiah, 6:1-8
Romans, 8:12-17
John, 3:1-17

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.  Amen


EACH YEAR when we have our annual meeting, I reflect on the last year as well as look forward.  When I look back to June of ‘08, I think, “Wow, we’ve had our share of challenges.”  Frankly, I think that the last year has been a tough one, with significantly more stress and anxiety than typical. 

Some causes strike me as relatively obvious.  I feel sadness and separation anxiety that Haig and Gary are leaving town, and I’ll no longer be working with them and enjoying their extraordinary talents.  The economic woes have dramatically affected parish finances and required us to make some difficult decisions where we’ve contended with definite and deeply felt differences. 

We have other causes of stress that may be more subtle, but possibly more powerful.  Of the trends and changes in the parish in recent years, two stand out to me. First, from my vantage, it has not been part of our culture for each of us to see ourselves as a minister of Christ, but that is changing.  Changing attitudes, changing our sense of identity, is stressful.  I experience a growing sense of shared responsibility and a desire to identify and use the gifts God has given each of us.  My hope is for us to continue to strengthen in shared ministry with an openness, an eagerness, to learn new things, new tricks, new ideas.

Second, in sharp contrast to most mainline churches, we’re becoming a younger congregation and more reflective of our neighborhood.  This is a real sign of health and vitality, but it presents tough challenges.  New people may wonder about how they’ll fit in, about what their roles are.  They bring new life and new ideas and will change our identity.  Yet, people who for years have generously, sacrificially invested themselves in God’s work here may also wonder about how they’ll continue to fit in.  To me, a catholic parish is an inclusive spiritual family, a place where many views and types of people belong and connect with God and one another, a place where we’re stretched.  A catholic parish is a spiritual home where people respect and engage with tradition, but are not a slave to it.

Certainly we may identify other causes of stress, but at least these I’ve mentioned are not easy challenges.  The world inculcates in us an inclination to bemoan challenges, to run from them.  But not Christianity.  Real spiritual work, where we encounter God, where we are transformed by God, is staying in the fire.  Challenge is opportunity.  Challenge can spur growth.

In Michigan in 1898, the Kelloggs brothers accidentally left cooked wheat untended for a day.  It became stale.  Instead of dumping it out, they tried to roll it as normal, but they were left with a flaky material instead of a sheet of dough.  Most would have tossed it out as waste.  But it wasn’t. They had created wheat flakes – what would become Wheaties.  They developed a similar process with corn to produce Corn Flakes.  They used their mistake, their misfortune, to make a fortune.

A couple of decades before the Kelloggs breakthrough, one of Louis Pasteur’s assistants spilled a bottle of collodion, a chemical used for photography.  He didn’t cry over spilled collodion, nor did he clean it up immediately.  He left it there for a while, and once this thick, syrupy liquid had mostly evaporated, the young assistant found that he could tear long, very thin strands from it.  He started working with this gunk and developed rayon, the first synthetic silk. 

When you get lemons, you make lemonade.  When things don’t go the way we planned or would like, we can run, grouse, give up, or look for grace.  Several years ago, Jeff MacKnight, a priest in Bethesda, preached here, and his refrain sticks in my mind: “No problems, only opportunities.”  How we see things makes all the difference.

Last week, writing in his column for the Times, Thomas Friedman told this joke:

There is this very pious Jew named Goldberg who always dreamed of winning the lottery. Every Sabbath, he’d go to synagogue and pray: “God, I have been such a pious Jew all my life. What would be so bad if I won the lottery?” But the lottery would come and Goldberg wouldn’t win. Week after week, Goldberg would pray to win the lottery, but the lottery would come and Goldberg wouldn’t win. Finally, one Sabbath, Goldberg wails to the heavens and says: “God, I have been so pious for so long, what do I have to do to win the lottery?”

And the heavens parted and the voice of God came down: “Goldberg, give me a chance! Buy a ticket!”  

It’s lousy theology, whether you are Jewish or Christian.  As we become more pious, we’re less likely to treat God as a genie or try to earn God’s favor.  But Friedman made an important point.  He wrote that he’d told that joke to President Obama because after “reading the Arab and Israeli press [last] week, everyone seemed to be telling [Obama] what he needed to do and say in Cairo, but nobody was indicating how they were going to step up and do something different. Everyone wants peace, [Friedman said] but nobody wants to buy a ticket.”  He’s saying to the Palestinians, to the Israelis, to the Arabs, to you and me, “It’s easy to offer advice and criticism, but are you willing to step up and adjust your behavior, habits, values, attitudes, expectations?”  If we want something important, it often requires us to change ourselves, to do interior, spiritual work of adjusting behavior and beliefs.

When we face challenges, the first step is to recognize the challenge, fully and honestly, and then think about how to do things differently to capitalize on the opportunity.  In our parish, I see an abundance of signs of people stepping up to do things differently. 

In the last year, our vestry has displayed real dedication and passion, working long hours – sometimes very long hours, listening and learning, confronting realities, mostly discussing ideas with candor and respect for differences, praying together, reflecting on and then making hard choices.  We’ve spent far more time in Bible study and reflection than ever.  We doubled the number of our meetings, an implicit recognition that we can improve Christ’s ministry here, that we have to do some things differently.

I was heartened when I read the questionnaires filled out by those standing for vestry, and I noticed that a strong percentage are people who have been members here for a short period of time.  Last month, we were blessed by having ten people from the catechumenate either confirmed or received, and I look forward to people from that class stepping up to the Vestry in coming years.  All over we can see people trying new things and doing things that are challenging, putting themselves beyond their comfort zone.  We can also notice that we’ve improved in the way we handle differences – that is gospel witness.

I give thanks for those who have been so generous in their giving.  In a year of economic constriction, a time of uncertainty and fear, pledging here rose strongly.  It’s a strength we’ll continue to build upon.  Putting your money where your mouth is shows integrity and commitment.  That is gospel witness.

I am cheered by the number and variety of stable, solid small groups here.  There are the Monday and the Thursday evening community groups, the Diabetes Support Group, the Theology Book Club.  In the last year, there were two Alpha courses, one of which then morphed into the Beta group to continue its learning and fellowship.  Another Alpha will begin in a few weeks.  Participation in devotional societies remains strong.  We have a dedicated altar guild, and I give thanks for their essential ministry.  I also give thanks for the altar servers and that it’s now been a full year women have been serving at the altar.  Our lay eucharistic visitors, parishioners taking the Blessed Sacrament to other parishioners, ministered to more people last year than ever – visiting the sick, the shut-in, even prisoners.

The Catechesis of the Good Shepherd completed another year of nurturing faith and character in our children.  The Catechumenate, largely due to the influence of recent participants, evolved from being mostly didactic to being more focused on engagement and participation.  As for outreach, we continued our work at the N Street Village, and another group of us went on mission back to Nicaragua , mostly of people who’d not gone down before.  The responsibility for things like coffee hour and altar flowers has been spread much more widely – truly shared.  All of this is not cause for being smug.  We’re not a completed work.  We’ve got room for growth as Christians.  But the evidence of grace here is unmistakable. 

Our service, ministry, and sacrifice authenticates our worship.  That is the message of today’s lesson of Isaiah’s call.  Like Abraham, Moses, Gideon, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Isaiah has an encounter with God, and God commissioned Isaiah to speak or to act for him. God shares his ministry.  Isaiah encountered God in the Temple – the smoke as clouds of incense symbolizing the presence of God.  Isaiah experienced the glory of God in worship.  Isaiah felt unworthy before God, knowing his limitations and short-comings, but God still sought Isaiah’s help, flawed as Isaiah was, and Isaiah agreed, “Here am I.  Send me.” 

We used to have our annual meeting on the Last Sunday of Epiphany, the day we observe Jesus’ Transfiguration.  It makes the same point as Isaiah 6.  Jesus climbed a mountain with Peter, James, and John, and at the mountain top the disciples had a dramatic, enthralling encounter with God, seeing God’s glory.  They tried to cling to the experience, but Jesus immediately moved forward, going down the mountain to preach good news, to heal, to minster, to serve.  As with Isaiah in the Temple, encounter with God, worship, is to prepare for, to inspire, to empower, ministry and service. The reason we go to mass is to be sent from mass.  Mass comes from the Latin word ‘missio’ meaning send.  In worship, we experience God, and our response can be Isaiah’s, “Here am I.  Send me.” 

In this parish we have high standards for worship, very high standards.  It’s an important foundation.  Our challenge is to make sure our high standards for worship inform and shape high standards for all of our discipleship.  Do our high expectations for worship translate into high expectations for our response to worship?  Does our worship inspire service, generosity, sacrifice, learning, openness, prayer, discernment?  Are our high expectations for worship matched by high levels of accountability and shared responsibility?

Part of our shared responsibility is envisioning our future together.  Together we discern what God wants from us.  Earlier this year when we were working on a budget, thinking about priorities, I heard repeated calls in the vestry for greater definition of our mission.  In the coming months, and at our annual meeting today, we’ll be working on that together, praying and listening.  This is spiritual work.

Mission begins with purpose.  Why am I a Christian?  For me, it’s about sanity, about having meaning in life.  Without Jesus, life is ultimately a tragedy – no matter how much fun and pleasure it gives, no matter how much is achieved.  I’m a Christian to orient my life to what matters most, to love, love as lived by Jesus.  What is the purpose of this parish?  For me, it’s about growing in Christ, about transformation through relationship with God and one another. 

There are lots of different answers to the question of purpose.  Together with the Holy Spirit we discern it.  Parish purpose is not imposed by an individual, but emerges from the family, which desires it, claims it, owns it, and tries to live it.  What we become in the future depends upon us: how we pray, or not; how we work together, or not; how we accept responsibility, or not; how we sacrifice, or not; how we encourage growth in Christ, or not; how we appropriately deal with disappointment, or not; how we face realities, or not; how we stay focused on Jesus and the gospel, or not.  No problems, only opportunities.  Together, let’s respond to God with Isaiah: “Here am I.  Send me.” 

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen


1 Thomas L. Friedman, ‘Obama on Obama,’ The New York Times, June 3, 2009, p. A23.

©2009 Lane John Davenport

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