Sermon by Jane Larsen-Wigger

Crescent Hill Presbyterian Church

Fourth Sunday of Easter

April 13, 2008

Acts 2:41-47
Psalm 23

The lectionary is the set of prescribed scripture passages that churches all over the world use on a given Sunday morning.  I'm not tied to it, but I do usually preach from this lectionary.  And, as I do, it continues to either baffle or amaze me.  This week it does both. Because this week it is so untimely -- and timely; so out of whack—and in sync all at the same time. 

This week's passage from Acts is chronologically messed up.  Like the movie Babel, we get a glimpse of something that hasn't yet happened in some sense.  Because here we are in Eastertide – that season between the resurrection of the Lord and coming of the Spirit at Pentecost.  But the reading from Acts jumps past the Pentecost story and sets us down in the earliest days of the church.  So, it's out of order and order is something this Presbyterian anyway really likes.
 

And yet....this passage couldn't be more timely.  More in order.  I have just been away for the first of a series of 5 retreats that I will be a part of over the next two years. This is a spiritual renewal program for women pastors serving congregations.  It was conceived by the Benedictine sisters of "Our Lady of Grace Monastery" near Indianapolis.  This Roman Catholic community of women wanted to reach out to Protestant women and welcome us into their rhythms of prayer and community life, to surround us with a gracious space in which to be renewed for ministry.  It was a real gift.
 

But I was there until Thursday of this past week.  So, knowing I'd be getting back late in the week, I had looked ahead at the lectionary for this Sunday and had decided—because of ‘where' we are as a congregation these days – to preach on the Acts passage for this Sunday, even though it does, as I said, seem a bit out of place.   Maybe we are too though?  So, I had this passage on my mind when I went on retreat.  And then our speaker for the week stood up for her first presentation and began by reading this very scripture – and then spent 5 sessions with us unpacking it.  Which was very appropriate, given that we were with the Benedictines who are all about community.   Which is what this passage is about.

Now, one more word before I read this.
 

I'm sure (!) you all remember that two Sundays ago we had a story about the small group of disciples that were huddled together on that first Easter evening.  They had heard rumors about Jesus' resurrection but really didn't know what was happening.  So, there they were gathered together - closed off against the world. Fearful. Doubting. Anxious. Clinging to one another. Unsure what to do next.  What would happen to them?  And there—in the intimacy of fellowship – Jesus was revealed to them.  They experienced the Presence of the Risen Christ.  And "he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.' "(John 20:22) Today’s text is set probably only weeks after that encounter.  And yet, it is a much different scene.

Acts 2:41-47

Wow.  That's my usual reaction to this story, this painting of the church in its earliest days.  It is so vibrant.  So growing. So radical.  The numbers alone are staggering.  3000 people?  In one day.  That's the size of my hometown.  (How would you ever learn everyone's name?)  And then that part about all being together and "having all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need."   A few decades ago, when this country was feeling so threatened by communism, a preacher might get in trouble for even suggesting such a thing.
 

Those are the most startling tidbits in this passage. But some other nuggets tucked in there aren't any less amazing: what about "having the goodwill of all the people" for instance - obviously this was before smear journalism became prevalent; or even those "glad and generous hearts" - how radical is that in this day of cynicism and selfishness.  And they were known by the "many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles" – wonders and signs – not lawsuits and scandals.
 

Yeah, but....this was the first flush of Church.  They'd just been ignited by dancing flames of fire and caught up in the "rush of a violent wind" – of course radical and amazing things would be happening among them.  And besides, they hadn't even had time to form committees yet.

This was all before the church got so – churchy. So institutionalized.  And, maybe it wasn't really all this utopian anyway.  There could be a little revisionist history going on here – sort of like how many a mainline church looks back on their heyday of the 1950's.  How realistic was – and is this anyway?

But then....it sounds a lot like the vision our session has caught a glimpse of for our congregation: of an "open, growing, faith-filled community..."  Open – like those first disciples were – open to the new, to the Spirit, to the stranger.
Growing – like the early church was – growing in numbers, in relationship with one another and with God.  Faith-filled Community – a people gathered together by a common faith; seeking together to live a life based on the gospel of Jesus Christ.

A Community of Christ.  That's what this passage in Acts gives us a picture of.  Fills out the vision that our session has.  Community.  Something that is very much a part of this congregation's sense of identity.  Something those Benedictines are committed to wholly - in fact it's their purpose in being: the primary ministry of Benedictines is to build community.  So important, so central that is to living the Christian life.
 

Because it's in the intimacy of the community that we are encountered by Christ.  It's in the practices of the community that we are fashioned into the likeness of Christ.  Being together helps form us as disciples.

Now, let's be clear:  community does not mean uniformity; it does not mean we all agree.  Doesn't even mean we all like each other.  But you can care about another's welfare; can definitely pray for someone else, maybe especially when you find them hard to like.  Community does mean making room for one another.  Being open to learning from someone different from yourself.  Being willing to sit at table with someone you might not necessarily even associate with if they weren't also part of this community.
 

There was an article in Christian Century this week by Garret Keizer. It was actually a speech he made at Colgate University. He was speaking to "The Heretics Club," an organization, interestingly, that was established by the university chaplain's office for students who profess no religious affiliation.  Keizer was talking to the Heretics Club about why one should join a church. He began by saying that generally he sympathizes with people who put down organized religion.  "I not only feel that I understand what they mean;" he says, "I often feel that I understand what they mean better than they do. I worked as a lay and then as an ordained Episcopal minister for more than 20 years" after all.   ("In defense of organized religion: Reasons to join," by Garret Keizer, Christian Century, April 22, 2008, p. 28)
 

Among the arguments Keizer gives about why to be a part of a Christian community is what he says is for him the "chief benefit of all (his) years in church" and that is that "it forced (him) to hang out with people (he'd) not otherwise have (even) met. (And, to be fair," he says, "if I were asked to name the biggest liability of all my years in church, I'd say the same thing.) – it forces one to hang out with people you'd not otherwise even meet.  But, "in a society like ours, one in which people are increasingly tribalized and segregated" and individualized, what a radically important value this is. (Keizer, p. 30)
 

Being a part of a community means being in relationship with others – and relationship doesn't have to be perfect to be healing.  Our relationships aren't and won't be perfect. We will not always get it right. Relationships are not easy. They call forth stuff from us we don't always have a great supply of – like patience, tolerance, forbearance.  It's a mutual thing this community stuff.  Can't expect everyone to just accommodate us. Sometimes it stretches us; draws forth something more from us; all of which helps form us more and more into the likeness of Christ.
 

At its most basic, community simply means showing up.  For worship. For prayer. For fellowship and learning and eating together. Being present.  Even when you might not feel like it.  One of the promises we ask people to make when they join this congregation, this community of faith, is a promise to share in this church's worship and ministry. That begins by just showing up.    Being present.  Because your mere presence offers something valuable to this community.  Just as your absence means a loss for the community.  (And for you too I might add.)
 

You won't always feel like being here and you won't always "get something out of it."  But that's not really the point anyway.  None of this is "conditioned or authenticated by" our feelings.  Part of the power of praying and learning in community is that we learn that it's all bigger than us, that prayer, for instance, "will go on whether (you) feel like it or not, or even if (you) sleep through the whole thing."  (Eugene Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor, page 9)
 

Showing up to be part of a worshipping, praying community is a way to remind us of "our place in the universe."  Joan Chittister explains why the Benedictines practice regular daily communal prayer.  Through this practice, she says, "We come to realize that we are simply small parts of a continuing creation, and we take hope and comfort and perspective from that.
 

"If getting this contract is all that the world is about; if washing the children's school clothes is the center and the acme of my life; if holding this meeting or getting this promotion or making this money is all that claims my whole life's concentration and fills my whole life's time, then I have become more of a thing than a person and life is really passing me by. Or, I am passing it by.
 

"Benedict called for prayer at regular intervals of each day, right in the middle of apparently urgent and important work. The message is unequivocal. Let no one forget what they are really about. Let no one forget why they have really come to this life. Let no one forget the purpose of life. Let no one forget to remember. Ever."   (Joan Chittister, OSB, Wisdom Distilled from the Daily: Living the Rule of St. Benedict Today, HarperSanFranciso, 1990, p. 30.)  Gathering together as a praying community helps us remember what we're really about.
 

So, being present - simply physically present - is important.  To be present mentally and emotionally as well is even better.  But sometimes we just aren't.  Can't be.  Sometimes just getting here is all you can do.  But your mind is somewhere else or your heart just not in it.  Maybe it's especially at such times that the importance of the community is known.  It might be a day when you are here simply to receive.  And the way a word of scripture reverberates off all these faithful people, gives it a chance of lodging in your soul. Or there will be someone who is a bit more present that day and, even if you can't receive it or recognize it, is able to be Christ for you. The next time you come, you may be Christ for someone else.
 

One man (Richard Rodriguez, Days of Obligation) tells a story about an old nun who "used to pray in (his church) when (he) was a boy. One day," as he tells it, "as I passed her pillar, her hand shot out to catch my sleeve; her regard shone on me in the gloom. ‘If you are ever in church, and for one reason or another you cannot pray,' she whispered, ‘then ask God to unite your lazy prayers to the good prayers of the people kneeling around you.'"
 

And I am reminded of a conversation our youth group had a few years ago. They were talking about prayer. And our prayer together as a community. The kids expressed appreciation for it all, but also admitted that they're not sure they always believe in the power of prayer.  "But," one of them said, "That's okay. Because we know Izzy believes it."
 

Being in worship, being in fellowship, learning and sharing and praying and eating with people who believe when you maybe can't, helps form us individually and as a community of faith-filled believers.

And, my friends, all of this is no small thing.  In fact, it is from such soil that signs and wonders spring forth: signs of connection in an increasingly individualistic world. The wonder of respect in an antagonistic atmosphere. Glimpses of peace and simplicity in a world of violence and complexity. Whispers of hope amid the cacophony of cynicism. The practice of sharing in a culture preoccupied with grabbing more. The startling witness of "glad and generous hearts" shining among a people riddled with discouragement.
 

So, we probably won't have 3000 people trying to get in our front door, but surely there are folks out there who yearn for a community that looks more and more like the Lord whom we follow.  May we, in our life together, live into that vision.