Sermon and Communion
Father Bob stepped in front of the altar and read the next passage, that morning’s gospel reading:
He put before them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches." He told them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.
"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field."Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
"Have you understood all this?" They answered, "Yes." And he said to them, "Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old." (Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52)
From here, Father Bob went into his sermon, and he began by musing a bit on the Kingdom of God, that mysterious thing alluded to in the parables he had just read. Back in seminary, Father Bob learned to think of the Kingdom of God as existing constantly in three states of action: It actively breaks into the world, exists presently in the world, and is still yet to come. Still, what do these arcane and confusing parables really mean, and where is the Kingdom of God in our world today?
Father Bob talked about watching the news and growing disheartened as he watches the government continually walking away from its responsibility to the poor (a comment which got murmurs of approval from all present, especially me). He talked about how there are 11 million people in Somalia currently on the brink of starvation. A man in Norway went on a tragic killing spree. There is tragedy all over the world, and right here in Houston, there are over 10,000 homeless people, 4,000 of whom routinely spend the night without any sort of roof over their heads. Is this really the Kingdom of God? Is this how the Kingdom of God is supposed to look? Father Bob was speaking with a pastoral concern, but his words still had a profound prophetic sting to them.
He talked about how the air conditioner had been out on Wednesday and how he had sort of wanted to stay somewhere cool instead of coming in to perform the Eucharist. He had been hesitant to enter the hot building, but as he did, he spoke to a woman who told him happily, “If the chosen people managed in the hot desert for forty years, so can we!” The world may be a hot, broken, scary place, but the Kingdom of God breaks into this broken world, and as Christians, we live in the promise of things to come and endure hardship with the help of God.
In Romans 8, Paul writes that the Spirit helps us in our weakness. The Spirit brings light into the darkness and makes it so that all things work for the good. Even though the world may seem horrible at times, God loves us and changes our hearts. After all, God loves us so much that Christ even came into the world to live with us and die for us, each and every one of us, and now nothing can separate us from the love of God. We are made “more than conquerors,” as God transcends the everyday stuff that gets in the way of our relationships with the Lord. It was here that Father Bob said something totally antithetical to Joel Osteen’s prosperity message, a statement that really resonated with me since I’ve struggled a lot with the question of feeding the body and feeding the soul and whether one or the other should take priority in missions.
“If you’re physically hungry, you still will be at the end of this service, but if you believe, then at least that spiritual hunger will be satisfied, and that is my prayer for you.”
The people there that day were seeking spiritual sustenance. Sure, there was breakfast available after the service, but they could have easily come late and not sat through songs and Scriptures and sermons. Father Bob was helping meet a spiritual need this morning, and the physical could be met later. With this, the sermon came to a close, and we said the Nicene Creed and Prayers of the People (including the Lord’s Prayer) together, and then it was time for the offertory. Wait, what? Offertory? Really? These people should be receiving money, not giving it, right? We sang together as the plates were passed.Sing the wondrous love of Jesus;
Sing His mercy and His grace.
In the mansions bright and blessed,
He’ll prepare for us a place.
When we all get to Heaven,
What a day of rejoicing that will be!
When we all see Jesus,
We’ll sing and shout the victory!
One of the offering plates came my way, and as I looked down into it, I was astonished. Sure, it wasn’t the biggest offering ever, but the bottom of the plate was covered in coins and crumpled dollar bills. I thought of the story of the woman at the temple who gave what little she had and was praised by Jesus for her generosity even in scarcity. Lord of the Streets gave its members an opportunity to give back, and sure enough, they did.
It came time for Communion, and we went through the standard Episcopal liturgy. I was particularly impressed with Father Bob’s explanation of the breaking of the host: “We break the one body so that we might partake and, in our brokenness, become one body.” As we processed forward to partake of the elements, Brother William led us in singing:
Well, woke up this morning with my mind stayin’ on Jesus,
Woke up this morning with my mind stayin’ on Jesus,
Hallelujah, hallelujah
As I walked forward and dipped the small triangle of bread into the cup of wine, I looked over to my right and noticed the police officer from earlier. He was standing to one side and talking to one of the female volunteers with his head bowed. She had both hands on his shoulders and appeared to be praying very intently with him. I’m not sure what had happened, but it seemed that this man had been just as moved by the service as I had. As I walked back to my seat, I found myself praying for him as well. Brother William continued to sing:
Jesus get us ready for that great day.
Jesus get us ready for that great day.
Who shall be able to stand?
There was some sort of snafu, and Brother William and the pianist somehow missed each other and wound up in different keys, so before I really knew what was going on, the pianist had dropped out, and we were all singing along a capella. It was beautiful though and reverberated all over the stone walls of that majestic old building. After we had received communion, a slightly younger woman stepped up and sang a solo that left the performers at Lakewood in the dust in both quality and emotion.
Pass me not, oh gentle Savior,
Hear my humble cry,
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.
I’m calling Savior, Savior,
Hear my humble cry,
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.
Her voice had a rich soulfulness to it that seemed like it might rip those walls from their very foundations. The solo got amens and applause. After the song, Father Bob invited all present to attend breakfast in the parish hall nextdoor to the sanctuary, and he apologized that the oven and stove weren’t working, so all the food would be muffins and cereal and such. I was surprised when people didn’t flood out of the sanctuary as quickly as I had expected them to. Several volunteers hung back to collect the worship books and set out the cushions on the seats for the Trinity worshipers who would be coming in next. Not wanting to commit the “poverty pornography” violations Erin and I talked about in our earlier posts, I waited for everyone to clear out before grabbing some pictures of the sanctuary. Of course, when I tried to leave as well, I faced an unexpected obstacle.
Jesus Breaks Down Walls; I Just Hop Over Fences
I attempted to go out the front door of Trinity but found it locked. Thankfully --well, maybe not so thankfully if you read the rest of the story--, a friendly volunteer witnessed my struggle with the handle and informed me that I would have to go out through the parish hall and kitchen area. She led me down a hallway and into the crowded parish hall, in which at least 200 homeless folks had gathered for breakfast. The volunteer informed me that I needed to go across the room and through the hallway and then the exit would be right there. I followed this advice, reaching the end of the hall and seeing that the exit sign pointed to the right. “Okay,” I foolishly thought, “I guess I should follow the sign and go right.” Going through the door, I found myself in a fenced-in courtyard, and the second I let go of the handle and allowed the door to close, it locked behind me. Um . . . oops. I had hoped to make it to Gethsemane by 8:30 to hear my friend Sanetta preach, but with this blunder on my part, it looked like I might have to wait until the 11:00 service to hear her. I wandered around my confinement, assuming that there had to be some sort of gate through which I could get out. All the gates in my line of sight were sealed with heavy padlocks though, so I was starting to give up hope. I might have to scale the fence. I walked along the six-foot wrought iron fence, looking for some sort of avenue of escape. Nothing. Finally, I noticed that there was an electric sliding gate closing off the driveway into this rear courtyard, and the mechanical part of the gate was housed in a large three-foot-high box. I began to formulate my escape plan.
Walking back a bit to get just enough of a running start, I sprang forward onto the box, quickly moved my foot onto a metal arm of the gate, place my hand on one of the posts of the fence and catapulted myself over the fence onto the sidewalk six feet below. OW! While my catlike agility had gotten me over the fence, I had forgotten to let my body roll with the landing, meaning that the full force of the fall was now squarely concentrated in my feet and upper back. I know: I can’t believe I messed up such an elementary parkour maneuver either, but oh well. I shook it off and then hobbled to my car. I may have been a little worse for the wear from the experience, but I had bested the fence. On my way to my car, with my right foot positively aching and my left knee up to its usual tricks, I bumped into that same volunteer who misdirected me, and I just held my tongue as I smiled and waved.
Two churches down, two to go.
 |
| (Camera messed up. Tried to make the best of it.) |
It had been an incredibly moving experience, and I felt like a lot of my Lakewood woes had been reconciled by that woman’s reading of Romans 8 and by Father Bob’s comments afterward. I almost wanted to call it quits and go take a nap and just forget about Ecclesia. After all, God had laid a pretty heavy lesson on me with that “more than conquerors” thing. I was still really frustrated with Joel Osteen, but I had a little more peace of mind, and I wasn’t really sure that Ecclesia had much more to bring to the table than the things I had already witnessed. After worshiping in the country’s largest church and then learning a much more important lesson from “the least of these,” what other possible lesson did I have to learn? What could possibly top the extreme dichotomy of Lakewood and Lord of the Streets? What experience could possibly be a more suitable culmination of my weekend than these two churches back to back? What else could God possibly have to say to me after that?
Heh, oh me of little faith . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment