Sermon
September 1, 2013
Church of the Epiphany
September 1, 2013
Church of the Epiphany
Luke 14:1,
7-14
A couple weeks ago, at the 10:30 service, Lisa was giving
her sermon and a flash mob broke out.
Children and adults rushed the altar and began singing a song they
learned in Vacation Bible School. It was
a marvelous disruption to what I’m sure was a great sermon. The sight told its own story, one where
everyone is invited to the table, every voice of every age is valued and that
all are loved by God.
A little later, during announcements, the enthusiastic
crew interrupted Steve Mullaney’s (what I can only expect was to be a very
boring) announcement about the mundane schedule for Vacation Bible School. This time, the group began a song about
“throwing up.” That tune has been in my
head ever since. <sing> “I think I’m gonna throw up. I think I’m gonna throw up. I think I’m gonna throw up.”
Yep. That’s about how
I am feeling right now.
These past few weeks have been difficult. The reality that for the next nine months or
so I will be leaving Epiphany to further my education has been a niggling ache
in my stomach, my mind and my heart. It
manifests itself in nausea, tears and little temper tantrums. [Yes, kids, adults have temper tantrums, too!]
Fear does that to people.
Each of us has different things that trigger fear. Some are afraid of spiders or other creepy
crawly things. Others have a fear of
public speaking. I have to admit, all of
those things can bring up fear for me.
But one of my biggest fears is going into new places not knowing what my
role or responsibilities should be.
As a kid, I would get physically ill when my parents
would take me to large gatherings of people where the noise of the
conversations would send me into myself, and I would put myself in a corner
rather than engage in the gathering.
Shyness was a piece of that, but fear of the sheer level of noise, where
people would parry, like in a sword fight, to be heard, was nearly unbearable
for me. I would shut down or sometimes
throw up because I could not cope.
Unfortunately, some of those reactions still linger with
me as an adult. I often find myself
listening from the sidelines to the banter.
Sometimes the banter feels to me like a declaration of power or
position. I think that’s when I feel the
most uncomfortable. When one voice
dominates a conversation, and others wait to be heard, or, even worse, feel
silenced, I feel a sense of sadness, loss and sometimes, even anger and frustration.
I think this is what today’s parable is about. The Gospel writer is teaching us about
“class” and about how we place people on a value-based chart. Those people with society-defined “higher
value,” like financial, or power-based, or job-centered, or other-measures-we-use-to-determine-value
are given places of honor while those who live with less, work in what others
define as “menial” jobs, whose homes are modest or in some cases, non-existent,
are not even invited to join the gathering, or if they are, are not
given places of honor.
Jesus teaches us that how society values people does not matter. Each voice is valuable and needs the
opportunity to be heard. God created all
of us and we all have a place of value in God’s eyes.
Let me repeat that:
God created all of us. We each
hold a special place of honor in God’s eyes.
Because of this, what each person has to say is valuable and we must
give those who wish to speak the opportunity to be listened to and to be heard.
Life can be hard.
We aren’t always given the opportunity to be heard, to feel like we are
valued or to believe we are special in God’s eyes. It is risky to speak loud enough to be heard,
to let emotions flow freely and to express ourselves—our burdens and our
joys—for others to experience with us.
I should mention that the song went on. [Sing] “I think I’m gonna throw up, my hands to the
Lord!” When we throw up our hands to the Lord or, as the song goes on to say, hurl
our sins to God, we show our vulnerability and whether anyone on this earth
hears or not, God does.
So, I throw up my hands to the Lord in exultation and joy,
[do it!] to thank God for all I have
received. This faith community has given
me the opportunity to share my voice and to be heard. You have supported and guided me for nearly
26 years as my faith journey has led me up and down hills and valleys to this
place on this day. And I am humbled by
your trust and belief in me. And I am
especially thankful that you have heard God’s call, with me.
I also throw up my hands in exasperation [show the difference—close eyes and deep
breath] to beg for God’s presence in these next few weeks as I transition
into my internship role at St. Christopher’s in Roseville. Turning my car eastward every Sunday morning,
meeting new people, sitting in a corner and listening as the voices banter
their stories will all be tests of my ability to set aside my fears and engage
in a new community to find my voice in a new place during this next step on my
path to ordination.
I’ve been told this is the beginning of the long farewell
of the seminarian. This internship is
really only a class, but as with any class, I will build relationships and
expand my knowledge of God. It will
change me and challenge me. I will not
be able to come to Epiphany often because of my schedule, but I am still a part
of this community, and I will be here every once in a while.
There’s a hymn that came to mind as I was working on this
sermon. I’d like to read the text to
you. Listen to the words, knowing that
we are ever in relationship with one another, no matter where we are.
In Christ there is no East or West,
In Him no South or North;
But one great fellowship of love
Throughout the whole wide earth.
In Him shall true hearts everywhere
Their high communion find;
His service is the golden cord,
Close binding humankind.
Join hands, then, members of the faith,
Whatever your race may be!
Who serves my Father as His child
Is surely kin to me.
In Christ now meet both East and West,
In Him meet North and South;
All Christly souls are one in Him
Throughout the whole wide earth.
I
want you to know that you all hold a special place in my heart as people who
have been integral in my formation. You
have helped me develop and grow through all the different ministries I’ve been
a part of, like choir, Bible Study and EfM; and through trusting me as a J2A
mentor and as Jr. and Sr. Warden; and through friendships that have developed
over many years. I ask for your
continued prayers as I enter this next banquet hall in my journey, as I learn
which seats I am invited to sit in, and I understand more about my call. In the fellowship of Christ we find many
banquets. Thank you for inviting me to
be a part of this one. Amen.