A sermon by Senior Minister John B. McCall, June 10, 2007
Luke 7:11-17
In many ways this morning may seem like another ordinary Sunday. We come together in our worship space. We sing some hymns, share in some prayers, and listen for the guidance of the Spirit as John or Elsa talks about scripture and life. We hear cars go by on Cottage Road and are aware that a large percentage of our friends and neighbors don’t have anything to do with a church or other worshiping community. For them Sunday is a day of leisure or a day of chores.
In many ways today is just another ordinary Sunday. But for several of us it’s far more than that:
• Some of you come today with some loss or sadness seared into your heart, hoping that here you can feel comfort in the midst of a community.
• Some of you come weary from wrestling with demons that seem to sabotage your dreams, hoping that the word of grace from scripture can open your heart.
And some of you – some of us – come with feelings of excitement and amazement because today is a time of tender transition in the lives of those we love – both our core family and our extended family.
Henry Nouwen, the Roman Catholic priest, teacher, author, once wrote: in “A Letter of Consolation”:
In every arrival there is a leave taking; in every reunion there is a separation; in each one’s growing up there is a growing old; in every smile there is a tear; and in every success there is a loss. All living is dying and all celebration is mortification, too. [“A Letter of Consolation,” pg. 43]
Let’s be mindful of what we’ve already experienced. Have you paid attention?
• Today we have a candle on the altar to announce the birth of Caden Jordan born on Wednesday. We surround this whole family with our prayers, and shake our heads in wonder. We also know that the birth of any child transforms the world in countless ways.
• Today we baptize four children into the faith and into the family. Their parents and grandparents hold them with tender love and we, as the church, seal them in the covenant with God with water and the Holy Spirit.
These baptisms are not magical – they don’t conjure up an invisible shield to defend us from sadness or from the very real dangers of life. But they remind these families that each baptized person belongs to the body of Christ. No matter what happens in later years these, our own sons and daughters, will remember that their lives are centered in Jesus Christ. God is embodied in each of them.
• And today, in both Cape Elizabeth and South Portland (and in thousands of other communities) graduation exercises will launch kids out into the world, including a dozen or so for whom our church has been spiritual home and meeting place. As the father of one of these young adults, I can speak for all of us in saying that the years between baptism and high school graduation have passed in the blink of an eye.
This morning I find myself feeling a deep sense of awe, and think: “My God, life is so good!” What a profound experience to live abundantly, aware of the wonder of God in everything. Why would we settle for just struggling through the day and putting one foot in front of the other? Are we paying attention, ready and able to see the hand of God at work in everything familiar?
It’s like that place at the very end of Thornton Wilder’s play, Our Town, when Emily Webb, who has died, has the chance to return for just one day – reliving her 12th birthday – in Grover’s Corner, New Hampshire. She notices immediately how people seem to walk about unaware and uncaring, weighed down with the busy-ness of their lives, unable to see the wonder of it all. She turns to the stage manager and says:
I didn’t realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed. Take me back to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-by, world. Good-by to Grover’s Corners, Good-by to Mama and Papa. Good-by to clocks ticking. And food and coffee…and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?
The stage manager, off to the side, answers: “Some do, poets, saints, artists, but very few.” There’s deep truth in that. We’re often like sleepwalkers, often oblivious to the reality of what’s happening. All we’re able to do is put our heads down and plow forward, often without having any idea where we’re going. Then, something breaks our world open and gets our complete attention. Whether it’s joy or sorrow that breaks the shell, we find ourselves opened to the mystery and wonder of abundant life.
Luke tells us a story like that: Jesus, his disciples, and a large crowd, were approaching the small village of Nain when he came upon a funeral procession. A young man had died, leaving his widowed mother. She, too, was surrounded by a crowd, a community. When Jesus saw what was happening he felt her pain and saw her tears. He touched the young man’s casket and called him back from death to life. And word spread rapidly.
Here is one of many miracle stories that pepper the Gospels, bearing witness to the extraordinary power of Jesus to give new life. I can’t explain it. I can’t make this story or others like it fit into my experiences of the world. But I can point here to the very clear witness that we who want to be disciples can live meaningfully in this world because of Christ, Compassion, and Community. Whether we’re facing death or life, baptizing an infant or celebrating a graduate, opening up to possibilities or narrowing in on realities, we can live abundantly when we embrace Christ’s example about compassion and community.
This story clearly reminds us we can live abundantly because of compassion. Feeling another’s pain is the greatest gift we can give. Moving closer rather than pulling back is the best way we can honor our neighbor. Notice how Luke tells us that Jesus turned his whole attention to the widowed mother. He felt compassion for her. It’s most likely she was solely dependent on her son, and now he was gone. Jesus stopped in his tracks and heard her story, and was able to be completely present.
Every week I make phone calls to some of you who are struggling – home from the hospital, grieving a loss, facing a hard transition. I know I can’t fix much but I can listen. Do you risk asking another how life is feeling? Do you listen deeply and tune out all the distractions? That’s a gift that Jesus showed and we need to develop.
Another way of saying this is: we live abundantly because of community. We’re connected; we belong. We’re not an island; we are not alone. We’re surrounded by those who have walked through the darkness of the valley of the shadow of death. We sit beside those who have experienced whatever we have experienced. We have others who will help us carry our burdens.
Every Sunday when I read the prayer concerns during worship I realize how it might sound to some of you who don’t recognize any of the names. Some weeks there are a dozen names and needs… each one shared aloud. But because we’re all willingly a part of the gathered community of faith, we believe our compassion and our prayers matter to those we lift up.
On the other side of the ledger when we hold each other in community we can better keep our perspective on our own challenges. Dag Hammarskjold, Secretary General of the United Nations 50 years ago, in his journal called Markings, observed: “What makes loneliness and anguish is not that I have no one to share my burden, but this: I have only my own burden to bear.”
When we’re part of the community we keep our view of the world much larger and richer, with more signs of God’s grace. The pain of being completely alone is eased and we share with others in carrying their burdens and our own. And we share in the joys – it’s no matter whether you’re a blood relative of those baptized today – the parent of grandparent of a graduating senior. There are truly our son and daughters. We, the faith community, are a vital part of raising them and equipping them to live as Christians in the world.
A typical Sunday – another day like any other day? Certainly not. There’s no such thing as an ordinary day. All we need to do is pay attention to the example of Christ as he offered compassion and created community. And, ultimately, what does our weary world need more than these? Following the Way and Christ himself will teach us to live abundantly.