John 1:35-50

The Gospel-writer we know as John, tells the story of Jesus first conversation with his would-be-disciples differently than Matthew and Mark.  True, many of the characters in their stories are the same, but the tone feels different to me … it’s the difference between Jesus’ call and Jesus’ invitation.  And I can best describe the difference this way:

                As a child I slept for a while in a small bedroom with 3 sisters … two sets of bunk beds, very tight quarters.  I learned early that if I wanted to get into our only bathroom at all on a school-day morning, I’d better be first in line; so I got up with my father before anyone else – it was our “men’s only” time in the bathroom.  He would quietly come into the bedroom and lean close to my ear and gently whisper, “Glen, ready to get up?”  And that would be enough of an invitation.       Then, later in the day, after school, I’d do my chores as quickly as I could, so there’d be time to play with guys in the field behind our house before supper, always at 5:30.  When my mom heard my dad come in, she’d call for supper, though if we were in the middle of a game I’d pretend not to hear.  But if my father had to call, there was no mistake – “Glen Walter, SUPPER!”

                I grew up understanding the difference between call and invitation.  A call feels like a command … an invitation, like a choice.

                Matthew and Mark’s version of the story is often titled in modern Bibles as “Jesus calls the first disciples.”  Jesus, walking along the Sea of Galilee, seeing some fishermen, and calling to them, “Follow me, and I will make you ‘fishers of men’.”  And “immediately,” it says in Matthew and Mark, they left their nets and followed – their call feeling like a command.  In John’s Gospel though, I experience a different feel; and it’s grounded in the phrase, “Come and see.”  We heard it twice in this morning’s reading, first on the lips of Jesus, inviting Andrew, a disciple of John the Baptist, “Come and see.”  And the second time we hear it, it’s offered by Philip, one of Jesus’ new followers, as he encourages his own friend to “come and see.”  Both times I feel an openness, a spirit of welcome, even a promise that, “if you will take the chance to experience God’s goodness, I’m sure it will touch your heart like it touches mine.”  But I might be getting ahead of myself here, because there’s a lot going on between the lines in John’s story, and it may be helpful to revisit some of the action. 

                Unlike the other Gospels, John introduces the first disciples of Jesus not by the shores of the Sea of Galilee, but rather on the banks of the Jordan River where John the Baptist is preaching.  When the Baptist recognizes Jesus as the One about whom he had been preaching all these years, he points it out to two of his own followers, one of whom is named Andrew, who happens to be a fisherman from the town of Bethsaida on the Sea of Galilee, but who for the moment at least has come to hear and follow the Baptist.  There are a few other Galileans with them – Andrew’s brother Simon, who Andrew tells right after his visit with Jesus – and Philip too … in fact, I’ve often wondered if Philip was not the second disciple who leaves the Baptist and visits with Jesus.  That makes sense to me, because the next day, when Jesus decides to go to Galilee, he finds Philip and says “follow me” not to a complete stranger, but to someone who has already come and seen God’s goodness.  It’s as if Jesus’ decision to head north to Galilee includes an invitation to this group of Galileans to travel along with him, back to where they’ve come from, and beyond their wildest imagination.  And so excited is Philip that he tells his friend Nathaniel who evidently is not so easily convinced … well, until Jesus compliments him … and then he becomes almost too enthusiastic. 

                To me John’s story is about some everyday people not unlike you and me, who appear to take their faith and spirituality quite seriously, and who, when invited and encouraged, are willing to alter their direction, and in that promise come face to face with Jesus.  Andrew and Philip felt that invitation from Jesus; Simon Peter and Nathaniel felt that invitation from Andrew and Philip – come and see, come and experience, come and feel the blessing. 

                As profound as “call stories” can be, “invitation stories” are the inspiration of everyday people like you and me.  Call stories can feel so overwhelming at times … so astounding and demanding that we can hardly imagine something like that happening to us.  But invitation stories … invitations feel more gentle and encouraging, they give people room to consider and discern, they open the spiritual doors to discovery and delight, they introduce friends to the goodness of God and Spirit of Christ and allow that experience to do the convincing.

                As important as call stories are to the church, invitation stories show us how to share the experience of faithfulness with one another.  Molly and I, together with OUC’s present leadership, are dedicated to continue shaping a Christian community here that can inspire everyone’s faith and imagination.  We’re working hard at building up ministries that everyone here will be enthusiastic about saying to family and friends, “come and see.”  We spend much of our time prayerfully looking for and encouraging meaningful expressions of caring and learning, of worshiping and reaching out, of volunteering and giving that will touch and inspire the lives of everyday people.  We believe that God is doing a good thing here and that Jesus’ love is shared willingly here. 

          So we invite you to choose something yourself, here at OUC, in which you recognize God’s goodness and Christ’s love, and imagine yourself saying to someone else, “Come and see, come and experience, come and feel the blessing … then help us build the faith community that will do the convincing.  And that’s when Jesus’ promise will be fulfilled – “You will see greater things than these.”

Glen Stoudt

January 15, 2012

Matthew 25:1-13  Parable of the 10 Bridesmaids

            Most ordained ministers who’ve been around awhile have at least one – a wedding day fiasco story to tell.  So when I hear this parable, I think back to pre-cell-phone-days:  On a 100-degree August Saturday afternoon in suburban Philadelphia, a hundred folks gathered in the un-air-conditioned church for a wedding.  But at the appointed hour, the groom and his mother hadn’t yet arrived.  People started fussing, the bride in particular.  At 15 minutes late I entered the sanctuary and let everyone know that we had called the family home and there was no answer.  At 30 minutes I returned to the sanctuary and invited everyone to wait outside under the big oak trees to try to catch what little breeze was available and escape the blistering heat.  At 45 minutes the church phone rang – the groom was calling from a phone booth at a gas station where he had hiked a mile-and-a-half from his deserted car in the middle of grid-lock on the Schuylkill Expressway half way across the city … they were safe but we’d have to wait at least another hour, maybe 2.  At 60 minutes guests started leaving to find liquid refreshment.  At an hour-and-a-half the overheated groom and his weakened mother surprisingly pulled up in a cab.  No questions asked, we all went back into church and started the ceremony.  Then, in the middle of the vows (“for better or worse”) everyone heard a few car doors slam in the parking lot, and the giddy laughter of several slightly inebriated guests at the open windows.  “Look,” one of them guffawed, “they started without him.”  And that’s when the bride turned to the window and with a glare said, “No, we started without you!”  For better or worse, indeed; I’ve often wondered how long that marriage lasted.

            Strange things can happen at weddings, and who knows what Jesus might have encountered in his experiences, that helped shape this parable.  This much scholars do suspect, that as it stands in Matthew’s gospel, there’s at least some influence added by those who lovingly gathered up and wove together the many memories of Jesus’ words and deeds into this one gospel – mostly because many scholars see this parable as really being about waiting … waiting for the groom … waiting for their resurrected Jesus and the kingdom of God.  And even though Jesus might have pondered the anxieties that his earliest followers would experience if his return was not immediate, that was really an issue for his later followers, just about the time Matthew’s gospel was taking shape.  They were desperately waiting for Jesus’ return.

            Of course this story is often interpreted as one of judgment, with the foolish (unfaithful) left on the outside, looking in – barred from the coming kingdom.  And though this interpretation certainly has merit, I personally find it less helpful because it tends to reduce faithfulness to judgmentalism – those of us who presume we’re “in” judging who else is “in” and who is “out,” who is good enough and who is not.  Or even more insidious, it can tempt the individual to worry that I’m simply not good enough to be welcomed into the feast, I don’t have what it takes, so what’s the use – sorry Jesus, this is all the oil I’ve got … no extra flask in reserve … so to hell with it!

            But what if we focused our attention on the wise ones instead of obsessing on the foolish?  What if we considered this flask of oil, this spiritual jar filled with whatever is necessary to wait faithfully for Jesus’ realm?  What if we contemplated this symbol and named the spiritual qualities that enable us to burn brightly with the love of God while we wait?

            I truly appreciate the wisdom resident in our two mid-week bible studies that help unpack the Sunday morning reading.  What we discover in our conversations is usually more than any one person could learn on their own.  And it makes every one of these sermons collaboration.  This past week as we pondered the ‘flask of oil’ metaphor, a few really helpful images emerged.  Someone offered “inner faith” – that’s what’s in the flask … which is more than only what we believe; it’s also the grace-inspired trust we have in God’s goodness.  Another suggestion was “open-mindedness” … the willingness and desire to embrace a new idea and live with it, always growing in what we know of God’s goodness.  And then someone told a story about waiting at the bedside of a dear friend who was dying … the loving presence of a gentle word whispered, and a compassionate hand to hold – sharing God’s goodness while we wait; exactly what another person recognized and named as “an action of kingdom-kindness.”

            There are other possibilities for sure, but these three certainly feel like a good start in appreciating what you already have in reserve that allows you to shine – faith and trust that is ever deepening, mindfulness and knowledge that is ever broadening, and loving kingdom-kindness that is ever expanding.  But for me, what we hold in reserve as Jesus’ followers points to the parable’s deeper meaning.   It’s really about faithful waiting.  I’m not sure how many of us these days are intentionally waiting for Jesus’ 2^nd Coming in particular … but most of us do know the stress and anxiety of everyday waiting:  waiting for a diagnosis, for someone to come back home, for a child to be born, for a decent job, for a hospital bed, for the financial markets to recover, for the hungry to be fed, for someone to say I love you, for a broken relationship to be healed, for a child to cut the apron strings, for an aging parent to realize they need assisted living, for an adult child to marry the person they’ve been living with, for a loved one to die, for a sickness to be cured, for someone you love to say yes.  One important question worthy of asking yourself today might be ‘what are you waiting for?’  And a second is like it – ‘what spiritual resources are in your flask because you are a follower of Jesus?’ 

            To live faithfully while we wait is really what Christian living is all about.  And that means in the midst of struggle, especially in the midst of struggle, Christ encourages us to come with our oil flask ready, and to live expressively … by sharing our faith with each other, by learning God’s goodness daily, by showing Christian love compassionately.  It may not speed up what you’re waiting for, but it will bless your waiting time by filling it with light and hope for yourself and others.

            I’m not sure you saw Kelly Egan’s story in the City section of Friday’s Citizen … ‘Something Good in All of Them’ – about 90 year old Florence and 84 year old Loris who every Thursday spend 3 or 4 hours walking the rougher streets of Ottawa passing out sandwiches, socks, and hugs to the least among us.  For the past 15 years they’ve been doing this street ministry as an expression of their Christian faith.  Now I don’t know what they’re waiting for exactly, but I’m sure, like you and me, they must be waiting for something.  In the meantime, they’ve never run out of oil.  For 15 years there always seems to be enough in the flask.  And this goodness they’ve shared, God’ goodness, along with the brightness they’ve shed, the very light of Christ, is a blessing to behold.  And if they’re waiting for end of their days on earth, which they very well may be at their age, then surely they’re waiting faithfully, in part because they realize the wisdom of having a spiritual reservoir; and of trusting that God will never let it run dry.  Now there’s a parable message to carry with you in your flask – love courageously while you wait!  May it be living possibility for each of us.

       If you have ever felt encouraged because you trusted in the message of Jesus Christ; if you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by love in the arms of a spouse or a sibling, a parent, a new child in your family, a trusted friend … if you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by real love, and realized this is God’s love; if you’ve ever accomplished more than you ever thought possible because you happened to be working with faithful people striving alongside you; if you’ve ever been blessed by another person’s compassion when you felt most vulnerable, or by their genuine caring when you suffered a loss – then this sermon just might be for you.

       I love the way this reading from Philippians begins.  It’s so inclusive, in ever widening circles.  It reminds me of a large piece of contemporary art that a high school student at Trinity United painted for the worship space there over a decade ago … a surreal image of the moment when a stone hits the water … with the words printed – “RIPPLE POSITIVELY.”  If you’ve ever experienced any of these precious moments from Philippians, it’s like God’s pebble hitting a pond, creating the ripple that can be your life. 

       But most of us who have been around church long enough realize that the good news of the Christian faith offers encouragement balanced by challenge.  God’s love is indeed free, but it’s not cheap.  And when we experience the joy of God’s goodness in our lives, we’re invited into a partnership with God, and with each other, to share that goodness in the same way God shares it with us; which is when most of us realize the challenge.  But the beauty of this reality is that no one of us bears the responsibility alone.  We have Christ and each other.  When the church is at its best, this is what we can be and do together.

       Since last Fall our leadership at Orleans United has been engaged in an ongoing conversation about the “future directions” of this church.  It began with a gathering of regular folks like many of us here today, who shared stories with each other about what’s at the heart of our congregation  – what difference do we make?   The church Council then met for a Saturday retreat where we named seven foundation stones on which OUC is grounded.  You can see those online if you want, or by contacting Jean in the office, or asking me after worship today.  The result of that retreat is a group of eight congregational people who continue to imagine what God wants to build on those 7 foundation stones.

       One of the helpful phrases that has emerged, you’ve already seen in 2 newsletters and on our new website. It’s also the title of this sermon: Making Room for You and God (… in Worship, in Learning, in Serving, in Community).  When I read this Philippians text a few weeks ago, I immediately thought of that image.  OUC is here to help everyone who walks through our doors – whether you’ve been here 30 years since the beginning or just 30 or 40 minutes this morning, whether you feel confident about what you believe or are still working it out (maybe even with some “fear and trembling”) – we’re all here together to help each of you discover and develop your growing relationship with God, and to be the kind of community that creates the spiritual space and the faith friends for that to happen. 

       It’s that kind of church Paul saw among the Christians in Philippi – not perfect by any means, but there for each other in encouragement, in love, in community spirit, in compassion and sympathy.  And what did he challenge them to do, after he encouraged them?  He invited them to find common ground, their common purpose – God’s purpose – what God wants to build on the good foundation already in place.  And if that wasn’t challenging enough, Paul then reminds them that if anyone is a “know-it-all” or “has-to-have-it-my-own-way” or “is-hyper-critical-of-others” – check your ego at the door.  Because in this sacred place, everyone’s idea is a helpful idea, everyone’s beliefs are as valuable as the rest, everyone’s gift contributes to the health of all, and everyone’s efforts are respected, accepted, needed. 

       And that’s when he breaks into song.  I suppose we could fuss over the theological content of the lyrics of the beloved hymn Paul quotes here.  And if you’re interested in studying them more deeply, I’m certainly open to that conversation.  But I’m not convinced that’s the point here.  Paul doesn’t seem to be pushing a theological agenda as much as trying to touch the hearts of his friends.  If humble, sacrificial love is good enough for Jesus, please let it good enough for you.  That’s how you will find God’s honour, in humility.

       And that’s how we work on our faith here in this sacred community.  When we are at our best, we lovingly encourage and challenge each other, because we know that no one is saved until we all are.  We strive together, from the youngest to the oldest, the longest to the newest, the simplest to the wisest, sometimes in fear and trembling, but always because we trust that God is our partner, at work in us, enabling us to will and to work in the Spirit of love.  Together we make room for you and God.  That sacred space, that loving partnership serves as both our highest calling and our deepest desire.  So, ripple positively!

Glen Stoudt

Orleans United Church

September 25, 2011     Philippians 2:1-13