RVCC Pastor's Sermon

Sermon - July 6, 2008

“Small Churches”

By Rev. Nancy Foran
Matthew 11:16-30

Have you ever really thought about what it means to be a people of faith – particularly a people of faith in a small church like RVCC? Being part of this community defines in an important way who we are and how we live. After all, every Sunday morning, in spite of being pulled in a variety of directions, we still make the time to reaffirm that we are a family and that we intend to live out the Gospel message together.

Sunday worship is critical to our community life – and must not be taken lightly. Though I am preaching to the choir here to some extent, I would submit that affirming our faith through worship is the only way that we truly recognize the significance of the “God-touched” moments that break into all of our other days - a child is born on Tuesday, a friend dies on Wednesday, peace is sought on Thursday, a truce is made on Friday.

In one way or another, at all those times, we have known a God shaped by our experience in this community. And so each one of us brings to the table in our small church setting a variety of grace-filled moments when we have caught a fleeting glimpse of the Alpha and the Omega, the Holy of Holies, the Word become flesh.

And so my question to you this morning is this: how would you like to meet God face-to-face? I mean, now – today? If I could arrange a flight to seventh heaven or, better yet, if I could arrange for God to appear downstairs in the Vestry after worship, how would you like that meeting to be?

You imagine the conditions. Would it be the furious flapping of a bird’s wings in the kitchen, the mysterious voice of authority booming out of a burning bush from the Deacons’ Corner? Would you see only God’s backside as Moses did, or would you see the Galilean carpenter who would sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee and some of Judy Day’s apple pie – made, of course, with Macintosh apples? How would you like to meet God?

I once spoke with some preschoolers about their concept of God. They all agreed that God was male, had a very long gray beard, and definitely did not wear blue jeans. I also have a niece who told me that God lived in a house like a palace on a high mountain with lightening bolts constantly flashing - as she said, you know, the kind that look like those veins in my Mom’s legs. Many children in Cumberland go through a period of time believing that God can actually be seen doing whatever God does behind the organ screen at the front of the sanctuary at the Congregational Church.

Personally, I do not think God has a long gray beard. I do not think that God lives in a palace emitting varicose vein-like lightening bolts. I am quite certain that God does not live in Cumberland – even for part of the year. “We piped for you and you would not dance. We wept and wailed and you would not mourn.” That is what Matthew writes about who God is and the ministry that flows from our relationship with the Holy One. If Scripture offers a clue, then what ever did Jesus mean when he spoke of the music of celebration and in the next breath the trappings of a funeral?

To better understand the truth beneath these words, we need to know that Jesus had just heard that John the Baptist – cousin and role model - was imprisoned for his unguarded remarks to King Herod. Since no one really came to John’s aid, it appeared that locusts and wild honey were no more than a passe fad.

“It is like those children,” Jesus told his followers, pointing to a group of dark eyed urchins. “Listen to their singsong ritual of choosing what game to play, taking forever to decide.”

“We piped for you and you would not dance.” Oh, I don’t want to play the wedding game. That’s for girls.

“We wept and wailed, and you would not mourn.” Yuck! Who wants to play the funeral game! That’s for babies.

And so on, and so on. “That” said Jesus “is what all of you are like.” Eenie, meenie, miney, mo. Come on, he said, why won’t you just dance to God’s music?

You see, John the Baptist had offered the good news of God. But people did not like his style. Remember? He preached with all the seriousness of a funeral, and eventually folks shook their heads and walked away. What tomfoolery – all those images of repentance – chaff on the granary floor, great fires and burnings.

Come on, why won’t you just dance to God’s music? “We wept and wailed and you would not mourn.”

Then Jesus himself came and spoke of a joyful gospel – of a kingdom so abundant that it was like vines bending over heavy with grapes, like a banquet table laden with sumptuous bread and wine. Jesus offered a simple truth uncluttered by dogma and ritual, but this light side of God was being refused as well. Come on, why won’t you just dance to God’s music? “We piped for you and you would not dance.”

And the question that perhaps Matthew did not dare to ask was this: Are we in this story any place – you and I? When we have an opportunity to meet God, do we approach the experience with the fickleness of children? Does God sing a song at RVCC, and, if so, do we dance?

Years ago, when I was a preschool teacher, one of my students was living with cancer. The prognosis was lousy – and, not surprisingly, fearful for every parent. But eventually supplanting this fear was a remarkable sense of community. People brought meals and prayed for Hannah’s healing and comfort. They made hospital visits. The children made cards and gifts. We were the loudest cheering section in the Freeport Fourth of July fun run when Hannah flew past in a wheelchair pushed by her mother.

No one knew whether Hannah would survive, but what became abundantly clear was that God was richly present in our lives of caring. How else can I explain the depth of ministry? And yet no one realized that they were part of a profound miracle of healing, so intent were all of us on looking for the medical miracle that would never come.

The question is not what would we do if we could talk with God – but – when God talks with us – how come we always expect God to be elsewhere? How come we always expect a baritone instead of an alto? A waltz instead of a polka?

How come so many of us presume – deep down inside – that on Sunday mornings God probably prefers the mega-churches and even just the large and affluent churches because so many are gathered together there in one sanctuary in God’s name?

And yet, here in this place, God’s work is being done in quiet and unassuming ways. A small budget cannot diminish the sense of family and the kind of caring that goes on around here – the prayer shawls that are knitted, the phone calls and visits that you make to each other. Even when the pews are not full, mission money and mission energy flows from this place – when we serve at the soup kitchen in Portland, when our school and health kits reach the hands of children throughout the world.

Let’s rejoice that God is not revealed in numbers and dollar signs but rather is hidden in the midst of the relationships that we build in this community and through this community with the world. We cannot quantify the success of our ministry as much as the bean counters and number crunchers would like. Yet, could it be that when some on the outside judge our role in bringing the Kingdom and only see God hidden because of our smallness, that is precisely when God is most revealed?

Deep within the very life that swirls about us in this small and sacred place, surely we hear the haunting voice of God. Behold the friend, the sick, she who mourns. Behold the ones who come to the pot roast suppers just for the feeling of community. Behold the ones who weep when the oil tank is filled for them. Behold those who receive a Walmart certificate. Behold the common, the cluttered, the confused. Behold the Lamb of God.

We have an important role to play as the Body of Christ here in Raymond, a special role that simply can not be played effectively by larger churches. We are called as a small church to minister in unique and vital ways – by providing the outstretched and embracing arms of a family and community in a world populated by “what’s in it for me” individuals, by unabashedly working for justice in a hands on and almost intimate way at a time when justice lies at the crux of peace-making.

God walks beside us here at RVCC, and good ministry happens. Christ invites us here – to this table, to share in the Gospel message, to be affirmed as his disciples, to be challenged as his followers. And the Holy Spirit swirls about us here – nudging, cajoling, but always, always reminding us that as a small church we are blessed and have the very best of reasons to dance.

Sermon - July 6, 2008

“Small Churches”

By Rev. Nancy Foran Matthew 11:16-30

By Rev. Nancy Foran
Matthew 11:16-30