To Be the Church

 A sermon preached at Old South Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Hallowell, Maine, November 4, 2007.
Text: 2 Thessalonians 1:1-12
The Rev. Susan M. Reisert, Minister

            I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be the church, what it means to gather together as God’s people, in this sanctuary or over in the Parish House in a meeting or in a classroom or at Bible Study or for a rehearsal, etc.  What does it mean to be the church, to be called together in this kind of place, in this kind of setting, among these people.  What does it mean to be the church?

            I’ll admit that a lot of my thinking has been motivated by several conversations that I’ve had with people, or things that I’ve heard in the past couple of weeks.  These conversations or things that have been brought to my attention somehow, all have something to do with people threatening to leave the church.  I’ve been hearing things like, if this happens or that happens, I won’t be able to go to church here anymore.  Or being told by a third party if this happens or that happens some person or some group of people won’t be able to come to church here anymore.

            And, it’s not all about one issue.  So far, there have been several issues that end up with this kind of construction.  If this happens or that happens then I or so-and-so won’t be able to come to church here anymore.  Perhaps it would be easier if all of this talk lined up on one side of each of these issues.  But, that’s, of course, not how’s it been.  Clearly, there is disagreement, disagreement about a lot of things—although consensus on the response.  If this happens or that happens, I won’t be able to come to church here anymore.

            And, so I have been thinking—thinking a lot—about what it means to be the church and what it means for US to be the church.  And, praying too, praying a lot.

            Now, this isn’t exactly new to me.  I grew up in a contentious church, a church where there was a fair amount of bickering and disagreements, and a lot of conversation in the parking lot that ended up with interesting—and sometimes disturbing—attempts at different kinds of gamesmanship, I guess you could call it.

            Although I really did enjoy my growing up in the church, and found it to be very significant and meaningful, I can remember quite vividly thinking that I would never want to be a minister of a local church.  How would one, why would one, choose to be in the midst of so much bickering, so much difficulty which sometimes turned even into animosity.

            I’m still not exactly sure how I ended up here—as the minister of a local church—especially after being so sure, as a young person, that this was about the last place that would ever have wanted to be.  But, I suspect it has something to do with my vision, my hope, my trust, and my faith in the ability of people to do it better, in being the church.  It has been my hope, from my childhood, that it could be better, that the lessons of my childhood would not have to be endlessly repeated, that there was every reason to hope that it could be better.

            And, along this journey, I have had experiences that have fed this vision, and many that have left me teetering on the edge of despair.  But, I remember one time when my vision, my hope, was particularly renewed and strengthened and that was when I was a student in Divinity School.

            I went to Divinity School with the hope that I would be able to pursue my interest in the Bible, theology and Christianity, but to find that it would lead to someplace else than parish ministry.  That’s what I was thinking at the time, anyway.

            For my first year at Divinity School, I chose a field education site at a day shelter for homeless women.  I found this assignment to be fulfilling and I seriously contemplated a second year there, but then I thought that, to be honest with myself, I would at least need to try a church setting—to be able to reject it based on my experience.

            And, so, I began looking at my options.  The minister from the United Church of Christ church in Porter Square, who also worked in the field ed. office at the Div. School approached me about the opening at that church.  And, I talked to him a little about the church and then went to check out the church.

            Before attending a worship service, I was told that the church was in the midst of something of a crisis.  A large group of women, mostly single women, who attended the church wanted the church to purchase the inclusive language companion to the Pilgrim Hymnal.  The New Century was not yet available.  Instead, there was this ring-bound edition that contained about half of the hymns from the Pilgrim Hymnal written with inclusive language.  This group of women was quite determined in having the church purchase a set of these companion hymnals.  A larger group from the congregation, including the moderator, thought that it was a silly waste of precious resources to buy those hymnals.

            So, a congregational meeting was called to talk and to try to settle the matter. 

            I just happened to attend worship, to check it out, on that Sunday when they had their congregational meeting.  I stayed to see what was going to happen.

            Although the moderator tried his best to be neutral, it was clear from the start that he did not approve of the purchase of new hymnals.  But, one by one, those women got up and spoke from the heart about why it was so important to them.  Their reasons were diverse and well-presented.

            Through the whole meeting, the tone was respectful and calm.  No angry words were spoken.  No one stormed away.

            Finally, after many of the women had spoken, the moderator got up and calmly offered his confession.  Indeed, at the beginning of the meeting, he was most firmly opposed.  But, after listening to these voices, he had been persuaded to change his mind.  There was a moment, as he spoke, when I think we all knew that this wasn’t simply about one man changing his mind.  It was a moment when there was a recognition that this was a gathering of the church.  And, as such, those assembled people were not alone. The Holy Spirit was with them.  They had taken a problem, taken it seriously, and they had listened to each other, and they had kept that possibility open that God would be speaking to them as well, as they gathered in that sanctuary.

            I knew I could work at that kind of church.

            And, so I have continued to hope, to hang on to the vision that it can be done better.

            And, I have faith that it can be done even better here.  I know that it can be done better here.

            But, I still worry.  So, I am focusing today on that concern.  I worry about what it means to be the church, for US to be the church—especially when there is clear disagreement, and frustration—not only about issues, but about process as well.

            We all need to be reminded, from time to time—myself included—of the special nature of our gathering.  We are not the sum of our parts, as individuals gathered together in this place.  We are not a social club or a bowling league.

            We are the church and our gathering is unique.

            Some people misunderstand the Christian Church to be a fellowship of do-gooders who think of themselves as a notch above everyone else. Now, I think most of us in the church know better than that, but maybe that's another way in which we have miscommunicated to the world. Charles Clayton Morrison, an American Disciples of Christ minister and editor of The Christian Century for most of the first half of the twentieth century, left us with an outstanding description of the Church. He said:

            “The Christian Church is not a society of integrated personalities, nor of philosophers, nor of mystics nor even of good people. It's a society of broken personalities, of men and women with troubled minds, of people who know they're not good. The Christian Church is a society of sinners. It is the only society in the world in which membership is based upon the single qualification that the candidates shall be unworthy of membership.”

            This definition allows us to be honest with ourselves and with each other.  We are not failures, but nor are we models of perfection.  We are human beings, amazing creatures capable of marvelous and wondrous things, but also capable of inflicting the most horrific suffering.  And most of our lives are lived someplace in between.

            In the church, we seek to be God’s people—exploring and putting to use our gifts and talents, while we also seek to gain in wisdom and courage, in strengthening an ever-deepening faith.  In the church, we seek to be God’s people, and God’s people are the kind of people who are ready who know that they are not alone, that someone or something else is always at work in our midst, that sometimes we need to open our ears and our hearts.  God’s people are the kind of people who take process seriously and know that we are brought together, in our complicated web of diverse interests and concerns, for a reason.

            The world is full of people who abuse power and authority, people who make threats to gain advantage, people who think that they know what is right for a whole lot of others.  That’s not how it works here or, that’s not how it’s supposed to work here.  We are called to a higher calling, a higher purpose.

            And, this is where we consider the words that Paul wrote to the church in Thessalonica, a church facing persecution from the outside and misunderstandings and division within.  Paul wrote:  “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.  We must always give thanks to God for you, brothers and sisters, as is right, because your faith is growing abundantly, and the love of everyone of you for one another is increasing. . . .  [We] always pray for you, asking that our God will make you worthy of his call and will fulfill by his power every good resolve and work of faith, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

            That is our calling as the church:  that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified—glorified in you, glorified in me, glorified in us as a community of people who seek God’s grace.  As we gather as the church, that is our goal and that is what informs who we are, how we act, how we speak, how we listen, and how we open ourselves to that new thing that moves in us and among us but also beyond us.

            How do we seek the glorification of Jesus in this place, in our gathering, in our intention to be the church?  How do we—as individuals and as a community—seek the glorification of Jesus?

            This is our hope, our quest, our prayer for every moment of our lives, but especially on a day when we gather around the communion table.  On this day, we are particularly mindful, we recognize in a special way, that we are not alone.

            So, as we gather as a church, as we gather around this sacred table, may we be thinking, may we be praying:  how is Jesus glorified in me, in us?  How is Jesus glorified in our gathering as the church?  Let that be our prayer, our guide, our hope.

            May God continue to be with us.

  Amen.

[Quote from Charles Clayton Morrison is from “A Satisfactory Humility,” a sermon by The Rev. Robert M. Holmes.]