Loading...Convention 2023 sermon
United Methodist Bishop Will Willimon tells the following story:
When I was serving a little church in rural Georgia, one of my members had a relative who died. The funeral was in a little, hot, crowded, off-brand Baptist country church. I had never seen anything like it. After the coffin was wheeled the in, the preacher let loose some fire and brimstone.
"It’s too late for Joe," he screamed while pointing to the coffin. "He might have wanted to do this or that in life, but it’s too late for him now. He’s dead. It’s all over for him. He might have wanted to straighten his life out, but he can’t now. It’s over…"
"But," the preacher continued, "it isn’t too late for you! People drop dead every day. So why wait? Now is the day for decision. Now is the time to make your life count for something. Give your life to Jesus!"
Willimon goes on to recall that he thought it was the worst funeral sermon, the worst sermon period that he had ever heard. Driving home, he prayed aloud, “Lord help me never to do that to a grieving family.” [A Cloud of Witnesses quoted in Synthesis Proper 27]
The late Episcopal priest and author, Father Robert Capon, suggested another way to be prepared for that day when we stand before Jesus.
On our Gospel passage, which ends with Jesus saying, "Keep awake, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour," Father Capon writes:
When all is said and done—when we have scared ourselves silly with the now-or-never urgency of faith and the once-and-for-all finality of judgment—we need to take a deep breath and let it out with a laugh. Because what we are called to watch for is a party.
And the party is not just down the street making up its mind when it will come to us. The party is already hiding in our basement, banging on our steam pipes, and laughing its way up our cellar stairs.
That unknown day and hour Jesus talks about, is not a dreadful day, but that glorious day when the party finally bursts into the kitchen, roistering its way through our whole house.
[His quote continues and I want to make it quite clear these are Capon’s words not my own!] Jesus’ coming again is not like our mother-in-law coming to for dinner, looking closely to see if we are using the dishes she gave us. Our Lord’s coming will be a most welcome sight, like a favorite relative who shows up with a salami under one arm and a bottle of wine under the other.
In this passage, Jesus is of course right: We must watch for him, watch for that day when he comes, because it would be such a pity to miss all the fun.” [adapted from The Parables of Judgment]
Because of God’s grace so freely and unreservedly given in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, we are people of hope, the ultimate hope, that God’s love for all is eternal and will never be revoked. We do not point to Jesus as one to be feared, but as the Hope of the World.
Jesus’ parables are always meant to shockingly reveal God’s love and mercy in ways that defy our understanding, an understanding often used a means of control which taps into people’s fears. This parable awakens us to hope, to live out that hope as individuals and as the Church.
And my journey of faith in the Church has led me to the conviction that true Christian hope springs from gratitude. When thankfulness is the lens through which we see and live each day, hope both precedes and follows gratitude.
Perhaps you are like me that these days, my lamp of hope runs low on oil at times. What that says is not that hope is elusive – far from it! It is a wake-up call for me, and all of us, to rethink what it means to be prepared with enough hope to burn brightly.
The oil we need is found in seeking and serving Christ in all people, in loving our neighbors as ourselves, in respecting the freedom and dignity of every human being. We burn brightest with the light of hope when we ease someone’s burden.
That preacher Bp Willimon heard was sort of right about one thing: We are promised only today to enable the Church in her work of proclaiming Christ as the hope of the world, whose Resurrection has destroyed death. We have only now to live for the One who says as we face of our greatest challenges: Be not afraid.
Feed the hungry. Speak out against bigotry. Live justly. Give generously. Heal the environment. Wage peace. Pray, work, and give for building up of the reign of God. These are the ways we fill our lamps and prepare for the party that is coming.
In conclusion - A couple of congregations have heard me share the following story:
When I was in high school, to me Saturday morning meant one thing: sleep. After five grueling days of school, and a day before getting up early on Sunday for church, Saturday was clearly meant to be a day of sleep. I was sure that Sabbath was Hebrew for “sleeping in.”
When I was a high school student, Saturday morning meant one thing to my father: chores around the house. And further, it was absolutely necessary to begin the Day of Chores as early as possible.
Thus, my father and I celebrated the following ritual most Saturday mornings. I would hear my father’s footsteps as he descended the stairs. He would enter my bedroom none too quietly, and I would pretend to be asleep. In a voice that was a cross between a football cheer and the sing-song of a drill instructor, he would boldly proclaim: “Everybody up, let’s gooooo.” His enthusiasm was disgusting.
Next in the liturgy came intense shaking of the allegedly sleeping son. And then would come the Dismissal, as the theme of today’s work was announced: “Today we are going to....”
Looking back, perhaps I didn’t want to carry out my father’s wishes because I was rebelling in some fashion, and I certainly didn’t understand that as a member of the family I shared responsibilities for some household chores.
But most of all – I had no clue that what my father was saying by giving me chores, was that he needed me. He wasn’t trying to make my life miserable, he wasn’t punishing me by giving me work to do. Rather, he needed me or else something important would not get done.
Daily we have a choice, to meet life and the news of the day by giving into darkness and fear, or by lighting the lamp of hope with thanksgiving, grateful for the opportunity to serve Christ in all people. It’s the difference between the funeral preacher Bishop Willimon heard, and the context of gratitude from which Father Capon sees a party in basement making its way up the cellar stairs.
Beloved: Watch. Be prepared and well stocked with hope. Jesus is coming again to the world he saved, the party has already begun. Giving hope and life to others, Jesus needs our help.
In the words of my dad: Everybody up – let’s go! Amen
