From the Pulpit:

The Rev. Margaret Waters

I wonder who he was. Mark doesn’t tell us any more than that he was a man, and as we listen to the story we realize that he was rich, but there is so much we don’t know about him. Did he have a family? Was he skilled or did he inherit his wealth? What did it mean to be rich in the first century? He didn’t have a car. He didn’t have a refrigerator or a college degree or closets full of clothes to choose from or a washer and dryer to keep them clean or running hot water for that matter. We know he was rich by the standards of his day, not ours, but still he was hungry for something that his possessions hadn’t  been able to satisfy. Had he met Jesus before? Maybe he had heard him preach to the crowds or happened upon a private moment when Jesus was praying on a secluded hillside? What do you think it would take to make you kneel before somebody and make yourself vulnerable by asking such a profound question? Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life? Clearly he’d been attentive to leading a moral life. He’d been keeping the commandments since he was a child, and you all know that there are times when even that is not easy. So here he is, he’s got to be nervous as a cat, kneeling at the feet of this wise teacher and waiting for the answer that may very well change his life. Can you feel the suspense as he waits? Let’s leave him there for a moment.  

Today is a big day at St. Alban’s.  At the 10:30 service we will be installing five people into the ministry of Verger. Even though I’m a cradle Episcopalian I’d never heard of a verger until a few years ago when I noticed some people in odd vestments prancing around in a very large church and generally acting quite important. They carried sticks and led the procession and escorted the readers to the lectern.  When Jerry came to me several years ago and said he was interested in this ministry I couldn’t imagine why we’d need a verger at St. Alban’s. Only rarely is there an animal or obstreperous person blocking the way of the procession, which in a church our size doesn’t take very long and we’re not at much risk of getting lost. But last fall when we shopped the walls it turned out that five people wanted to be vergers so we got busy and started learning about this ministry. Ron Robertson came last spring and brought notebooks and introduced us to what vergers really do, and I’ve got to tell you it’s a whole lot different from what you see if you can’t peek behind the scenes. Theirs is a true servant ministry. Since they began their training, which I’m telling you has been thorough and rigorous, one of them has served each Sunday as verger in training. They arrive at 7:15 and turn on the lights and AC, unlock doors, check the readings, place the flowers on the altar. The verger scurries around every minute until five of eight when the altar party gathers for prayer. At the eight o’clock service the verger serves as chalice bearer. And then they are hard at work between services, vested so that people know to ask them questions, They make certain that we have a full complement of acolytes and Eucharistic ministers, and that everyone is dressed and ready on time, and during the later service they stand at the back of the church, keeping an eye out for any sort of need. If a visitor arrives and  doesn’t get a service bulletin they’ll quietly hand them one. If someone can’t come to the altar for communion the verger will stand behind them so that Ann and I know to bring communion to them. If it’s 105 degrees and the day of the blood drive and five people pass out during one service, the verger is there with smelling salts and whatever else is needed. And if a child becomes, as we say, ‘unready’ to be present in worship, the verger will kindly suggest to the parent that they might want to worship in another space. In short, vergers put great effort and attention into making sure that our worship is seamless, that to those of you who come to find Jesus are able to find him with the minimum of distractions. Yes, they will lead the procession on a few special days but largely their ministry is behind the scenes and we all benefit from it.   

The man is still kneeling before Jesus, still waiting. Others have knelt there before, lepers, blind people, people with demons. Whether you know it or not, if you are kneeling before Jesus you are asking to be healed. I doubt that the man knew that any more than we are aware of our need for healing whenever we kneel in prayer on an average Sunday, but isn’t the very act of our coming here to worship an acknowledgement that we know there is something more than what we already have, and that we are hungry for it even on the days when we can’t begin to name it? Well, you know what Jesus tells him – go and get rid of your stuff and then come back and follow me. The man rises, looks at Jesus with sadness and departs, we assume to go home and choose his stuff over Jesus. And what does Jesus do? He loves him. 

The story goes on, but it nags at us, doesn’t it? There’s lots I could get rid of, but I like some of my stuff. Why does Jesus care? The disciples want to know more and then Jesus tells them about the eye of the needle and the camel, and people have been trying to explain that image away ever since the words came out of Jesus’ mouth. It wasn’t about a gate in Jerusalem. Jesus meant what he said. It’s really, really hard for a rich person to get into heaven because you can’t take what Jesus has to offer if you’re spending all your energy guarding your stuff. He goes on and finishes with that riddle about how the first shall be last and the last shall be first.  

That’s the perfect line for us to hear as we are about to install these five vergers. Their ministry is all about the first being last. Yes, they’ll vest one Sunday out of five, and once in a while they’ll take their place in front of the procession, but in taking on this ministry, in committing themselves to following  Jesus a little more nearly I’d like us to be aware of what they have given up. Every fifth Sunday they  give up exactly what we all come to church for, sitting with our family and friends, singing and praying and meditating and listening, being present in hope of being touched by the Spirit. Every fifth Sunday they are alert and attuned for anything that might distract us from the holiness of our worship. And they are doing this willingly out of love for us and love of Jesus. We are grateful to you! 

I ran across a bit of midrash in my reading this week. It goes like this: “The Holy One said, open for me a door as big as a needle’s eye, and I will open for you a door through which may enter tents and camels.” The problem with the man in today’s story was partially that he was rich and reluctant to give up his stuff to follow Jesus, but really it was that he was asking the wrong question in the first place. What must we do to inherit eternal life? Nothing. There is nothing we can do because if we just allow the tiniest crack to open in our hearts God can bring an entire treasure-laden caravan through it. What must we do to inherit eternal life? Nothing. Not one thing. The gift has been given. The kingdom has arrived. Jesus tells us again and again that all we have to do is open our eyes and our hearts, to let go of our grasp of earthly treasures in order to make room for the healing that is present all around us. The good news, the best news we can ever hear is that the first shall be last and the last shall be first. Every single one of us is the most dearly beloved of our Lord. Can you lay down what you hold most dear in order to accept that gift? One way or another, Jesus will look upon you with loving eyes. 

http://www.biblicalhebrew.com/nt/camelneedle.htm - Biblical Hebrew and its New Testament Application: Hebrew idioms buried in overly literal Greek. “The camel and the eye of the needle.”

02/13/2010