Sermon: The -ions

Rev. Jennifer Whipple
Congregational Church of Brookfield (UCC)         

The -ions
Ephesians 3:14-21
Mark 6:selected verses

July 22, 2012  

Prayer: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our minds and hearts gathered together today be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, for you are our Strength and our Redeemer.  Amen.

            Very near to our house, in the same neighborhood in fact, there is a funeral home.  Because it is in a residential area with small hills and curved roads on either side of it you can’t really tell if there is something going on there until you are very close to it – close enough that you pretty much have to commit to that route no matter what.  And because it is on a residential street there is no parking lot, and the roads are narrow.  I tell you this so that we can have a moment of pastoral confession.  There has been more than one occasion when I have had to catch myself and change my frame of mind when driving through the street lined on both sides with cars during this past school year.  You see, due to my husband’s schedule, my kids aren’t super early risers.  This past fall when Brayden started preschool we specifically chose the morning program, so that he could begin to get used to what it was like to wake up in the morning and get ready for school.  And it, of course, was an adjustment for all of us – getting he and Chloe up, getting them fed and dressed, and getting out the door in time to get him to school in time.  There were more than a few days when we were cutting it pretty close, all of us tired and cranky heading out the door.  The other thing you need to know is that Ryan is at home with our kids during the day, so his work van – a 12-passenger van, that some of my friends lovingly call the New England Patriots fan bus because he has skin-its on the side of the Patriots logo, and football players popping out and so forth – is the vehicle that I would most often drive to bring Brayden to school.  So the confession part is that there were mornings when, taking our usual route past the funeral home, we would come right upon it, running close to late, and I would say something like “You’ve got to be kidding me!  Really?  This morning of all mornings.”  The things you wish you perhaps had not said out loud, especially in front of your children. 

            You see, I have talked to my kids about what is happening on those occasions when we have not been pressed for time.  Because my grandma passed away last year, Brayden is especially beginning to understand why funeral homes exist and what it is that is happening when there are lots of cars outside.  And it was the morning when we came around the corner and over the little incline and then had to stop because of the parking and people situation and little three-year-old voice behind me said, “You’ve got to be kidding me!  Really?”  that I realized that my tired and cranky self had set an example that I did not want my children to follow – an example of irritation instead of compassion. 

            Now this would be the point in this story where we have to insert the little devil and angel figures on my shoulders.  I could easily say the devil made me do it – made me act out of fatigue or irritation at the fact that my schedule was being interrupted by what was going on.  But it was that morning, and other mornings since, when I have had to listen to the angel on the other side.  When, even if my initial reaction is the same, I have to remember to talk myself and my children through what is really happening.  “What mommy said was not right.  I said it because I was upset that we were running a little late.  This family is sad though, so what we should be doing is praying for them and sending love in their direction.  Do you think we can do that?”  Better example to be sure even if it takes a little while to get there.

            So why do I tell you this story?  Because it has two of our vocab words for today – two of the –ion words that the title of this sermon refers to.  (At this point I feel a need to apologize to any of you who looked at the sermon title and thought I might have gotten scientific and was preaching today about ions…not the case.)  The two words are “irritation” and “compassion.”  The truth for me is that when I am exhausted or have a set plan, if anything happens to throw that off I get irritated.  As much as I wish I could be more spontaneous, or even more of a “go with the flow” kind of gal, that is not how I am wired.  I like to have plans and to follow them.  I like to get places on time, and since having my kids I still underestimate how long it takes to get out the door.  But now I need to remember more than ever that I am an example for people – my kids, some of your kids, and so on.  And some days I wish I could just do my own thing, the little red devil on my shoulder beckoning me to act in one way, when I hear the voice of the little angel on the other shoulder reminding me that not just because of the role I play or the position to which I have been called, but because I am a disciple of Christ, I need to behave in a way that would allow other people to identify me as such.  It is my job to act out of compassion instead of irritation, out of faith instead of out of the motives of this world.  And sometimes I am exhausted, and it is even harder to remember that, let alone to do it.

            I think that place is the place where we meet our disciples today – at a place of exhaustion and irritation, having difficulty remembering why they signed on for this whole “following Jesus” deal in the first place, and wanting nothing more than to actually sit down to eat a meal and to rest, even if just for a moment.  It said in the reading for this morning that “they had no leisure even to eat.”  They had been working their tails off to help Jesus spread the message about God and God’s kingdom.  They had been prevailed upon by so many strangers they had lost count.  And, for a variety of reasons, the pace in the gospel of Mark in particular is quite frenetic.  Everything happens “immediately”.  Things happen “at once.”  And all the disciples wanted was to press the pause button.  To realize that Jesus wanted to take care of them as much as he wanted to take care of the “sheep without a shepherd.”  But that’s pretty clearly not what they were feeling.  Instead they were feeling rushed, asked to do way more than they could handle, and had “had it up to here” with all of Jesus’ requests of their energy and humanity, not to mention the requests of the people who kept following them EVERYWHERE they went.   After all, even when they got into the boat to set out to the other side of the sea, the one time they perhaps felt like they might get a break, the winds began to act up, and they had to tough it out instead of relax and share the load for a bit.  Our disciples were exhausted.  I think Bryn and I, and the Nominating Committee here at the church, have begun to say that more often as well…our disciples, our followers of Jesus Christ here at CCB, are exhausted.

            In our contemporary society, we, like the disciples and Jesus so long ago, run at a particularly frenetic pace.  It always seems that there is more to get done than there are hours in which to do it.  It always seems as if someone is demanding something of us or of our time and attention that we just don’t have the energy to complete.  So that all points to the “Catch 22” of our faith.  On the one hand we are invited to be ourselves, as beloved children of God, and to accept the invitation to be renewed and refreshed in body, mind, and Spirit as we participate in our own faith practices outside of the church and as we gather together for worship and communion.  And yet we are also called to serve as examples of love and compassion for a world that is broken and hurting in so many places that Band-aid doesn’t have enough product to cover all of the wounds.  We are challenged to find the balance – the balance between taking care of ourselves, so as to stave off irritation, and taking care of others through acts of compassion.  And what is perhaps even more challenging is that we are not all Jesus’s disciple robots, all marching to the same cadence and experiencing the same things at the same time.  Rather, we are all out in the world experiencing our own version of reality on our own time.

            Nothing made that clearer to me than the events of the past few days.  It is sometimes surreal and jarring to realize that what I am experiencing at any moment is not the exact same thing that other folks both near and far are experiencing.  As I was officiating at a wonderfully sweet and love-filled wedding yesterday, folks in Aurora, CO were finally finding out that their loved ones had been identified as those who had fallen victim to the shooting rampage at the movie premier early on Friday morning.  As I had the opportunity to play sidewalk chalk with my children before coming to work yesterday, I realized that there were children throughout the world in Syria and African nations and in Boston where we will be traveling with the Senior Youth Fellowship group on mission trip who don’t have time to play because they live in fear of what might happen next and are struggling on the streets without homes and driveways to play in.  It is a crazy world we live in.  I certainly can’t believe that it, as a whole, looks anything like the Kingdom of God.  And yet, as disciples, we are called to follow the example of Christ, bringing glimpses of that Kingdom to earth through our own words and actions and motives and intentions. 

            I think Pastor and theologian, Frederick Buechner said it best in one of his “dictionaries” called Wishful Thinking: A Seeker’s ABC when he wrote, “Compassion is the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling what it’s like to live in somebody else’s skin.  It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.” We live out a faith, after all, in which our God was doing just that – living as one of us, living in our skin, so that the visceral knowledge was there, as much as anything else, and so there might come a time – God-willing – when everyone, learning from the events of the early faith community and the examples of the “greats” in faith who have come before us, might bring about peace and joy for all.  That is why compassion leads to a call for justice in our homes and schools and businesses and communities, and in our world.  

            There is no question that Jesus cared for his disciples all those years ago.  After all, he was the one who fed them and taught them and prayed for them and washed their feet.  He wanted to be sure that they were caring for themselves and for one another, but there was also the pull of compassion – the motivator that had him devoting long and hard hours to the job of caring for all people as well.  But even Jesus modeled for the disciples that every once in a while you need some time to unplug and recharge – to reconnect to the source, in order to be able to carry that spirit and source back out into everyday living.  That is what the letter to the Ephesians is talking about – about connecting to God and allowing God to dwell within, loving and strengthening us for the tasks ahead.  Jesus reminded his disciples of that fact – that it was possible for God to be with them wherever they went, whether in the midst of a crowd of hundreds or in the middle of a shaky sea.  “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”  It is equally as good for us to follow the example of Jesus in this way – taking time out for ourselves to recharge and reconnect, as it is to follow his acts of limitless compassion.  Because it is in both of things – renewal and action that we come to know the last of the –ion words for today, which is revelation.

            In taking time out to “go away to a deserted place and rest for a while” we have the opportunity to shut off the world and to truly listen for God’s comfort and God’s guidance – God revealed in the quiet moments of our lives -  in the quiet center.  And by following the compassionate example of Jesus Christ, and even the disciples who got over their irritation enough to keep on serving, we put ourselves in the midst of situations where God comes to us through an experience, the words of another, the action of getting our hands dirty in service, and so on.  If you ask anyone of our disciples around here who has served on a committee, or gone on a mission trip, or driven a church friend to a treatment, or made a casserole for a grieving family, or just taken the time to really listen when someone says that they “aren’t really doing well after all,” those CCB disciples may just tell you that those moments and actions revealed not only a lot about God but about the gifts that God has given them to serve the world and to bring about those Kingdom glimpses.

            Frederick Buechner again wrote about revelation, and he said this, “Christianity was born when it occurred to some of the ones who had known Christ that his kind of life was the only kind worth living, and that in some invisible way Christ was still around to help them live it.”  If we are true disciples of Christ, then we recognize that in Christ’s example there is true life.  We recognize that in Christ’s motivations lie the secrets for God’s kingdom to truly come to earth.  We recognize that we are not alone in the tasks and calls and privileges of our faith.  And we recognize that we have a source to turn to when what we need most is a chance to sit and rest a while.

            So in the days ahead may we come to know the balance of discipleship – the balance of refueling and sharing compassionately of our gifts with the church and the world.  May we take heart, realizing that God is with us each step of the way – in the tough times and the good times, in the surreal moments and the moments we want to hold on to forever.  May we be rooted and grounded in love, strengthened in our inner spirits by God, and may we be able to set irritation aside so that we can be an example for others close to us and for the world.  And through those interactions, may we see the face of God.  Amen.