From the Pulpit:

    Ann Brotherton, Assistant Rector

God Be With You

Sermons are interesting critters.  They take on a life of their own and often don’t end up at all where they began.  Inevitably sermons carry words that speak to the preacher as well as the congregation.  When Margaret and I discussed the fall preaching schedule several weeks ago, I remember thinking this would be quite a special Sunday in the life of St. Alban’s.  Not only is it the day when we gather and bless our pledges for the year ahead, but it is also the day when we, as a community, celebrate Thanksgiving with one of our famously more-than-abundant pot-luck meals.  When I began contemplating the scripture readings for the day, I noted that it was also the festival of Christ the King.  This day lies at the very end of our church year, between the long season of Pentecost and the beginning of Advent.  I remembered preaching last year on this occasion and trusted, lest you be bored to tears, that Holy Spirit would provide fresh inspiration. 

As democratic and independent thinkers, and residents of a country that revolted against the notion of having a king, you and I may understandably have a little trouble relating to the terminology of Christ as king.  For me, Jesus as Lord or the Sovereignty of Christ fits better.  Pope Pius XI initiated the observation of this special day in 1925.  He felt it necessary as a response to the despair and disillusionment that followed the atrocities and destruction of World War I.  The false gods of totalitarianism in Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany, the gods of absolute collectivism in the Soviet Union, and the gods of skepticism and consumerism in this country had risen up to claim sovereignty in the life of the world.  This feast day was created to remind the church that, when we profess Jesus Christ as Lord we belong to a kingdom above those kingdoms, a realm above and beyond those realms, an authority who is sovereign over all others who would be lord of life.  Despair and disillusionment need not be our companions even in these days of deep economic depression.

Two weeks ago, when it was time to give more serious thought to this sermon, it became apparent that this would also be the last time I would speak to you from this pulpit as your Associate Rector.  Though I don’t believe the pulpit is the appropriate place for an abundance of personal sharing, it rather seems we need to pay some attention to “the elephant in the room” this morning.  Having received and accepted a call to serve as a staff chaplain at St. Luke’s Episcopal Hospital in Houston beginning January 4^th, it is time for me and Tom to ‘catch our breathe’ and do some personal reorganizing and planning for the future.  This move came six months earlier than any of us anticipated. I had already begun grieving the need to leave St. Alban’s in June when my curacy ended.  The grieving intensified sharply for a time, but is gradually being replaced by a deep sense of joy at how far we have come together, and excitement about your future and mine.  Please know our church membership will remain with you.  We hope to be able to keep our home in San Leanna and be frequent visitors in your midst.  You have been our spiritual home, our companions on the journey and friends for almost five years now, and that won’t change even though the location of my ministry will.  You have prepared me well for this new ministry, as you have loved and encouraged me through seminary, field education, senior sermons, GOE’s, ordinations and curacy.  You are a brave and extraordinarily tolerant and loving community, and I am grateful beyond words!  Today is also a celebration of the growth and becoming that has taken place in us as we have journeyed together.  And so this sermon takes an unanticipated detour.

Wouldn’t you know it - the Old Testament reading for this morning just happens (holy coincidence?) to be a poem that serves as David’s final words upon leaving his position of leadership.  Last words are significant - as we sit at the bedside of a loved one who is dying - speak those last words at the funeral or graveside – as we give words of parting advice, love and support to a child off to college for the first time – or as we say farewell to one we love when they depart on a long journey.  We remember last words.  Scripture is full of farewells, and parting words are given a place of prominence in the story of God’s people. 

Do you remember the last words of Moses to his people?  Moses led the people out of exile, wandered with them forty years in the wilderness and just as they got close enough to see the ‘promised land’ in the distance, became aware that he wouldn’t live long enough to accompany them all the way.  So he gathered everyone together to say a very long good-bye (Deut. 32-33).  He spoke to the whole group and then had words for the head of each tribe.  His words are a blessing to each one of his children – the twelve tribes.  He names each one and makes it clear by his wish for them that he knows their individual strengths and weaknesses.  He prays for each and hopes their lives will be healthy, strong and blessed.  He didn’t beat around the bush, but talked directly with them about his leaving, without any hint of avoidance or false promises.  Moses takes advantage of the opportunity, most importantly, to remind the people of the eternal presence and promise of God – that God was their strong, eternal and faithful dwelling place – God would continue to journey with them.

What did you think of these last words of David?  My first reaction was there weren’t many modest or humble bones in David’s body!   But when we take a second look, we realize that David, as a departing leader, is not so much bragging as he is reminding the people of the promises of God.  When one can see their gifts as a gift from God, then celebrating them is not an act of pride, but an expression of gratitude and praise.  In parting, David reminds the people of the everlasting covenant God has made with them and affirms that God who has blessed them in the past will continue to do so.

The writers of our Gospels offer a variety of sayings as the last words of Jesus. Each individually expresses their theological understanding of Jesus as Lord – Christ the king, if you will.  John spends nearly one quarter of his Gospel on the parting words of Jesus.  Jesus is clearly trying to give last minute instructions on how to live, as well as to prepare the disciples for his death and their life without him.  No doubt they were anxious and didn’t want him to leave.  Jesus gives to them and to us an Advocate, the Holy Spirit - to teach us, to be a companioning grace that walks with us beyond fear, who somehow brings a peace that far surpasses the understanding of the world and any human logic – a presence and power that enables us to do more than we ever thought we could.  “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.”  (John 14:25-27)   The Jesus we follow and reverence today as king and sovereign reminds us that we are able to turn again and again to the assurance of God’s continuing presence, and the promise that even in parting we are gathered up together into the peace of God.

From the cross, Jesus offers to one dying with him a place in paradise.  He then gives himself back into the hands of God, back to the one who called him – his whole life, blessings and bruises, successes and frustrations, achievements and what must have seemed like great failures and shame.  When we hear those parting words, we sense the safety and welcome of a place for us to follow as well, even when this life ends.

I don’t ever recall hearing Jesus say “I am the king.”  What I hear Jesus saying to Pilate is it’s up to each of us to decide whether we choose him as the one to whom we will listen, emulate and follow.  I do hear lots of words from Jesus about the ‘kingdom of God’- a kingdom not of this world, but one that transcends this world.  I have known that kingdom in your midst – a kingdom of love and a kingdom of priests.  It shows in the way you love and care for one another, and ever increasingly go out to share the love of God, the assurance, and the companionship we have found here with a broken and hurting world.  We begin our church year looking for the birth of Emmanuel – God with us.  We end our year celebrating that God has, is, and will always be with us.  We know this because Jesus came, as he so eloquently explained to Pilate, to bring this truth to the world in words and actions we humans could understand.  We come together each week to be reminded that we are not alone and to celebrate.  God is with us in the midst of life.   

The apostle Paul concludes each of his letters with some kind of benediction – last words of blessing.  To the Corinthians he writes, “The amazing grace of the Master, Jesus Christ, the extravagant love of God, the intimate friendship of the Holy Spirit, be with all of you” (2 Cor. 13:13, The Message ). Paul can bear to say good-bye to the church he has loved only when recognizing that he was not leaving them alone, but leaving them in the grace, love and fellowship of God. And so it is with me.  How else can we leave those we love, unless we trust them to the care of God?  ‘Good-bye’ actually means ‘God be with you’?    And so, a most heartfelt, God be with you, my friends, now and always.

And now, Let’s celebrate! Let us worship Christ our King, break bread together, give thanks, and walk with confidence into the newness of the year ahead, rejoicing in the power of the Spirit.     

Amen

02/13/2010