Sermons

"Missing Things"

By Bonnie A. Perry

Man - I hate when that happens.
I hate when I miss things.
The last time I stood up here to preach, it was Easter Sunday morning, and
Jesus was just rising from the dead. And, now, here I am again, and He's
ascending into heaven.
I feel like I missed a lot.
I feel, as the Apostles must have felt - "Hey, that's not long enough." "We were
just figuring things out." "You should stay here and hang out with us a bit
longer."
I can just see them there standing on a hill outside of Bethany - - Getting ready
for another day with Jesus in their midst. Marveling that they're hanging out
with a dead man who is now alive - knowing for sure that they have landed on
something big - much bigger than each of them. Bigger than they ever could
have imagined.
When suddenly, Jesus is blessing them - telling them to stay in the city - and
then just ascending - going right on up - passing them by.
They're all looking up at the sky, at the big blue sky with the clouds going by,
trying to figure out what to do. "NOW WHAT?" That's hardly fair.
My friend Jeannette tells the story of a neighbor who has two Golden
Retrievers. These two Goldens are about a year and a half old, but like most
Goldens, though their body's are full grown, they're still puppies in the brain.
When Elizabeth (the owner) wants to get them to go out, she flings open the
door and points the way - to try to get them to go. But, instead of seeing the
great outdoors, with the birds, the trees, the grass, those dogs inevitably just
fixate on the end of her finger. Just looking at it - and missing all the rest.
It was, I think, what the apostles were doing looking up at the sky. At the soles
of his feet - as if it were the tip of a finger!
And it is sometimes exactly what the institutional church can do: worried about
itself and its survival, forgetting about Jesus' call to live out the Gospel in
Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and even witness to the ends of the Earth.
What good is the church? What good is any church if it's not boldly living out
the Gospel in the world?

Yesterday, the New York Times (May 11) had a very interesting piece on the
front page - about the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. You'll recall that
this church was under siege for 39 days with 130 people seeking sanctuary.
Palestinian gunmen, Palestinian civilians, foreign protestors, and Christian
clergy from around the world were all inside the 1700 year old church built on
the spot, as tradition has it, where Mary gave birth to Christ.
The headline in the Times read, "Refuse in Church of the Nativity". And the
article went on to describe: "Grubby mattresses with tangled blankets laying
between columns of amber marble"; "The rank smell of urine at the low
entrance known as the 'Door of Humility'"; "Empty sardine tins with dripping oil
among spilled votive candles"; "A baptismal font with bottles of bleach having
been used to was dishes"; "An altar - which had clearly doubled as a dinner
table" and "An ornate Golden Cross that still reigned above it all."
Sacrilege? Desecration? Or The Reality of God's incarnation?
This wasn't any old church. It is the church built on the place where Jesus came
into the world. For ours is not a faith that floats in clouds waiting in the sky
above it all. Ours is a faith rooted in the earthiness, the smelliness, of a barn
and manager. Jesus came into the world. He was of the world and for the
world. So that He might save the world.
The Church of the Nativity embodied the incarnation. We too - thousands of
miles away in a church only 120 years old - we too are called to embody the
incarnation, to be a place of refuge and sanctuary.
We do it on Sunday morning. People walk through our doors - some through
force of habit, others because something momentous has happened in their
lives. We all come, each of us, looking for a blessing, for God's blessing, so we
can go back out and live meaningful lives. Each of us is called to give that
blessing, to give God's blessing, to each other.
On Tuesday evenings at our Community night and food pantry, we live out the
incarnation. Jesus is here - in our parish hall, in our kitchen. You can see Him
in the faces of people who are talking and being listened to - perhaps for the
first time all week. In the faces of people volunteering - packing cans in a bag;
creating a casserole on the stove; changing people's lives one meal at a time.
We are called - churches and people of faith - we are called to create refuges,
sanctuaries, communities; where people can come for a respite from war, from
hunger, from loneliness, from sadness.
We are all called to be witnesses to the ends of the Earth. We are all called -
to look beyond the walls of our lives. We are all called to be God's blessing, to
do God's work, in this messy, messy world. For this we give thanks.
Amen.