Standing Firm in the Lord

Do you know where your coffee comes from? If you’re a fan of Silver Bridge coffee, as I am, you know that it is roasted from certified Fair Trade beans. That means that anyone who buys it can be sure that the beans were grown by farmers who are members of a democratically run cooperative, that it was produced without child labor, that there were restrictions on the use of herbicides and pesticides, and that the coffee harvesters received a fair price.

It wasn’t always so. In the late 1970s Felipe and Mary Barreda were ordinary middle-class people living in Nicaragua under the dictatorship of Anastasio Somoza.1 Felipe was a watchmaker and Mary was a hair stylist. Together they had raised six children. After participating in Cursillo and the base communities movement, they came to see that their Christian faith called them to serve the poor. When the Sandinistas came to power, the Barredas threw themselves into the work of reconstruction of the Nicaraguan economy and into programs that brought healthcare and literacy to poor communities. Unfortunately, in the mid-1980s, the Sandinista reforms met increasing opposition from the Contra movement, which waged a war of terror from bases in Honduras. Because coffee was one of Nicaragua’s principle exports, coffee harvesters, especially those who tried to organize, became targets of Contra terror activities.

The Barredas knew well the dangers that they faced. They were committed to the service of poor communities to which they knew that their faith had called them. Family members and friends tried to persuade them to leave their work with the poor. But they defended their decision to join the coffee harvest just before Christmas in 1982. They wrote to their friends, “We discovered that faith is not expecting that the Lord will miraculously give us whatever we ask, or feeling the security that we will not be killed and that everything will turn out as we want. We learned that faith is putting ourselves in His hands, whatever happens good or bad. He will help us somehow.” On December 28, as they were harvesting coffee, they and six other harvesters were surrounded by contras and forced to march to a camp in Honduras. Mary was repeatedly raped. On January 7, 1983, both were executed.

As committed disciples of Jesus, Felipe and Mary Barreda were doing no more than following where their master had gone before. In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus is on long walk from Galilee to Jerusalem. As he makes his way, he continues to teach and heal in all the small towns and villages through which he passes. Perhaps he has arrived at a place where he can see the holy city in the distance. Surrounded by his disciples, he is approached by some Pharisees who warn him that Herod is trying to kill him. Are you surprised? Weren’t the Pharisees Jesus’ implacable enemies? Actually, no, they were not. Like Jesus, they too were reformers of Judaism, although they and Jesus differed significantly about how reform might be accomplished. Many of them probably had some sympathy for Jesus, especially as the Roman puppet ruler Herod had already executed Jesus’ cousin John the Baptizer. And so they deliver their warning: “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.”

Can Jesus turn back at this point? Can he say to himself, “Yeah, I’d better stay out of Jerusalem. It’s not safe there.” Jesus is undeterred. He understands his call, and he knows that his own personal survival is of no concern. He must continue to play the role for which he was sent. He must remain steadfast and committed to his purpose. Though he surely faces death in Jerusalem, he must nevertheless continue his ministry. He must continue to teach and heal, to finish his work, and to look ahead to what he trusts will occur on the third day after his death.

Paul echoed Jesus’ commitment to ministry when he wrote to the Christian community at Philippi. By the time he wrote this letter, Paul too could look ahead to possible death. It was the early ‘60s, and Paul was in prison. He was a Roman citizen and thus probably on his way to Rome for trial as an evangelist of the Way. Nero was persecuting Christians in Rome, and death was likely for Paul. Since Philippi was a Roman colony in Macedonia, the Philippian followers of Jesus were also facing persecution. To strengthen their faith, Paul advised them to be guided not only by his own commitment to Jesus but also by the commitment of steadfast Christians around them, “those who live according to the example you have in us.” As followers of Jesus, Paul told them, they were now the subjects of a ruler who had taken on the role of a slave for their sake. How should they exercise their new citizenship? By “standing firm in the Lord,” whatever the cost.

You and I are probably not called to martyrdom. We could conceivably be the victims of gun violence. How can we forget the children at Sandy Hook or the six people who had come to a Tucson supermarket to hear Gabrielle Giffords speak and were cut down by Jared Loughner’s shots? And there are those, even in the U.S., who have been murdered for their beliefs. We need only remember Barnett Slepian, a doctor who provided abortions, for example. In 1998 he had just returned from a synagogue service when he was murdered in his home by James Charles Kopp. Nor will most of us be itinerant evangelists like Paul, arrested by the state for spreading a pernicious new religion. Nor I hope will any of you end up writing letters to your friends from prison.

So how do we imitate Jesus or Paul in their stubborn and steadfast commitment to their identity in God? Like the Philippians, we too were baptized into Christ’s Body. We too are citizens of a different country, a country whose ruler is Christ not Caesar. We too are called to “stand firm in the Lord.” Easier said than done, you say. On a personal level, we may find ourselves having to defend even having faith at all. Haven’t you heard someone say, “You mean you still believe those old myths? Why on earth do I need God? Gravity is all the foundation my life needs!” Perhaps your faith has called you take a particular political stance, but those around you oppose your view. Can you follow the example of the Barredas and remain faithful to what you know to be true? Often crises affect our faith, and we find ourselves unwilling to trust a God who would let something tragic happen to our loved one – notwithstanding what happened to God’s Son – or who would let someone else betray us so badly. In the face of such pain and hurt, we may even turn our backs on God.

How about your commitment to prayer or worship? Our culture does not support either. In our noisy, 24/7 culture, we have to consciously detach from the world around us, to find a few minutes of quiet. And if you have to work or travel on Sundays, there goes worship. How about remaining true to a Lenten discipline, to prayer, fasting, alms-giving, or study? Given the temptations around us, it could be a real struggle.

On the parish level too we are called to imitate Jesus and Paul. We hear a lot of talk these days about “survival.” Our parishes are shrinking, and all our denominations have been steadily losing members for decades. “Members, more members,” cry clergy search committees. Yet fewer and fewer people – young or old – want to be part of the church. And isn’t the church in a transition period? Many observers think so. Phyllis Tickle, Diana Butler Bass, Brian McLaren, and others tell us that we are in the middle of another five hundred-year shift. Just as those who experienced the Reformation could not predict what the church would eventually come to be, so we too cannot know what God is doing in the church now, and what the church will come to be.

Even so, as disciples of Jesus, as students of Paul, as faithful Christians, we have been called by God, we have been planted here at St. Peter’s, to continue ministry in this place. Like Jesus and Paul we must not be concerned about survival. Rather, we are called to live out our mission here as best we understand it. We are not a comfortable social club. Rather, we are a group called together, so we say, to “share the joy of God’s grace with the community and the world.” We are a community called to worship God, support and care for one another, and care for the needs of those around us.

So, my sisters and brothers, while we continue to pray for the health of this parish, what is more important, we also leave its survival in God’s hands. Meanwhile, we continue in mission, with our eyes firmly fixed on Jesus. Lent is a good time to reflect on how well we are carrying out our mission. As you attend to your Lenten disciplines – whether you are fasting, praying, studying, or giving to charity – ponder also the mission of the church in this place. Are we faithful to what God has given us to do here?

1. The account that follows is based on Robert Ellsberg, “Felix and Mary Barreda,” All Saints (New York: Crossroad, 2000), pp. 18ff.

Why Fast?

Are you fasting? If so, from what? On Ash Wednesday, our liturgy reminded us of our mortality. The church then invited us, both individually and corporately, to begin a forty-day retreat, a retreat in which we are called to devote ourselves to “self-examination and repentance; prayer, fasting and self-denial; and reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.” While all of those actions are important elements of the spiritual life, fasting is perhaps the most perplexing one for modern Americans. Fasting from what and why? Our poorer neighbors, those who depend on food stamps, the Outreach Center, and Loaves and Fishes, may know something about fasting. But for most of us, with our overflowing supermarkets, refrigerators, and pantries, and with fast food outlets everywhere we turn, we’re more likely to overindulge than to feel the pain of waiting for the next meal. So why might we consider fasting, and what does it really mean for us?

Like throwing ashes on one’s head and wearing rough, plain clothing, the call to fast has long Scriptural roots. Moses, David, Elijah, Esther, Daniel, and many others fasted as a way of purifying themselves. Even today, observant Jews fast on the Day of Atonement. For those of us who dare to call ourselves disciples of Jesus, the main reason to fast is so that we may follow his example. All three of the synoptic gospels tell us that, after Jesus’ baptism, the Holy Spirit drove him into the wilderness, where he fasted for forty days. Mark gives us no idea of the trials that he endured but notes that the wild animals and the angels waited on him. Following a somewhat different tradition, Mark and Luke provide details of the physical and spiritual struggles that Jesus experienced in the desert. Whether we understand the source of Jesus’ struggle as interior or exterior, i.e., in his mind or orchestrated by an external agent, in both accounts Jesus clearly struggled to understand who he was and the nature of his identity as God’s chosen one.

In the simplest terms, then, we fast for forty days during this time, as a way of identifying with Jesus, in preparation for walking with him to Jerusalem. In the ancient church, these forty days became a period of preparation for baptism, in which both those to be baptized and those already baptized joined in prayer and fasting. In the medieval church, the Lenten fast was especially rigorous. “Lent” is the Old English word for spring, i.e., the time when the days get longer. Some have suggested that in northern Europe food stocks were low at this time. Hence a religiously sanctioned fast made sense. Be that as it may, in Lent people typically ate only one substantial meal usually at mid-day, with a light “collation” in the evening. People also abstained from strong drink and from meat, milk, cheese, butter, and eggs. This abstinence is the source of Mardi Gras (“fat Tuesday) and the Carnival (“carne wale,” good-bye to meat). People generally went to confession the day before Ash Wednesday and were “shriven,” i.e., absolved from their sins, hence Shrove Tuesday. Shrove Tuesday also became the day for pancake dinners, i.e., meals to use up the butter and eggs before Lent.

Many of these practices continued in our church well into the twentieth century. Turn to page 17 in the Book of Common Prayer. There you will see that Ash Wednesday and Good Friday are fast days, and that Ash Wednesday, the other weekdays of Lent, Good Friday, and all other Fridays of the year, with some exceptions, are days of special devotion. So if you want to give up meat on Wednesdays and Fridays in Lent, you will be in good company! Traditionally, too, Christians have “given up” something for Lent. Unlike our medieval forbears, many of us give up things that may or may not impact our lives significantly: chocolate, ice cream, music, or comic books were common. Are all these quaint customs? The truth is that any of these observances, even abstaining from chocolate, could have real spiritual meaning if done with the intention of pleasing God and strengthening our self-discipline, but they could just as easily devolve into meaningless “feel good” gestures.

So what does fasting really mean for us? What is the church calling us to do, either in our Ash Wednesday liturgy or the instructions for days of “special devotion?” The call to fasting could mean literally fasting, not eating anything, say, for twenty-four or even thirty-six hours. When my husband and I were younger we would fast from Maundy Thursday dinner through Good Friday, then break our fast with friends with a simple meal of what might have been eaten in the holy land, dates, fruits, nuts, cheeses, bread, and a little wine. Might we consider trying such a meal here at St. Peter’s? Eating less meat and more plant food during Lent might be a valuable way to begin taking better care of our bodies. We might donate the savings from eating less to a food pantry, to Outreach, to Loaves and Fishes, or to an organization that combats hunger like Bread for the World or Episcopal Relief and Development. During Lent, you might consider the two-cent challenge: put two cents in a jar for every person at the table, every day, say at dinner. If you live alone do it at every meal as you say grace. At the end of Lent, donate the money to an organization that fights hunger.

Are there other things we should fast from besides food? Jesus’ stripped down experience in the desert enabled him to gain a deeper understanding of his vocation as God’s chosen one. Cheryl Strayed’s mother died when Cheryl was only twenty-two. In the wake of that tragedy, she hiked the entire eleven hundred miles of the Pacific Coast trail, a trek she recounted in her book Wild. In the mountain wilderness, Strayed put her life back together and regained her soul. What are those aspects of our life that we need to leave behind so as to have a deeper sense of God’s reality and demands on us? What do we need to give up that distracts us from God? What impedes our transformation and growth in Christ? TV? Facebook? Texting? Shopping? Could we at least scale back on our purchases and entertainment during Lent and increase our donations to organizations serving the poor or our participation in ministry to others? Could we simplify our lives, clear out our calendars, create our own wilderness time, so that we might stand open to God, ponder our own spiritual identity, and let God get a word in edgewise?

What might this parish fast from, besides “alleluias” and the contemporary-language service? Might we fast from our comfortable isolation as a Christian community? We proclaim that our mission is to share “the joy of God’s grace with the community and the world.” It’s right there on your service bulletin and on our sign out front. What does that really mean to us? Are there people who should be here, and might be here through your invitation? Can we pray more intentionally for them, or for those who come to Loaves and Fishes? What else might we do to take God’s love outside the red doors?

And here’s yet another kind of fasting. We might call it a spiritual fast, although, in a sense, all our fasting can potentially be spiritual fasting. I invite you to consider fasting from all those attitudes, fears, worries, distractions, and sins that keep you from following Jesus’ example. Please take out the sheet in your bulletin. We’ll read each sentence responsively. Put the sheet on your fridge and look at it every day this Lent. Go through the fasts and feasts day by day, one fast and feast at a time. During the day, ask God for grace to help you truly live into that fast and feast. For example, for the first one: ask God to strengthen your willingness to not judge anyone and to see everyone whom you meet as someone in whom Christ dwells. Are you ready? Let’s read them. Then commit yourselves to them.

Fast from judging others. Feast on seeing all as Christ’s brothers and sisters.
Fast from emphasis on differences. Feast on the unity of all life.
Fast from thoughts of illness. Feast on the healing power of God.
Fast from cursing. Feast on blessing.
Fast from discontent. Feast on gratitude.
Fast from anger. Feast on patience.
Fast from pessimism. Feast on optimism.
Fast from worry. Feast on God’s providence.
Fast from complaining. Feast on appreciation.
Fast from negatives. Feast on affirmatives.
Fast from unrelenting pressures. Feast on unceasing prayer.
Fast from hostility. Feast on peace-making.
Fast from bitterness. Feast on forgiveness.
Fast from self-concern. Feast on compassion for others.
Fast from personal anxiety. Feast on trust in God.
Fast from discouragement. Feast on hope.
Fast from lethargy. Feast on enthusiasm.
Fast from thoughts that weaken. Feast on promises that inspire.
Fast from shadows of sorrow. Feast on the sunlight of serenity.
Fast from idle gossip. Feast on purposeful silence.
Fast from problems that overwhelm. Feast on prayer that sustains.1

My sisters and brothers, as we travel the road to Jerusalem, to the Cross and beyond, may the fast of Lent draw you closer to God.

1. Adapted from Synthesis, February 17, 2013, p. 3.

Changed into His Likeness

“O God, who before the passion of your only begotten Son revealed his glory on the holy mountain: grant to us that we, beholding by faith the light of his countenance, may be strengthened to bear our cross, and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory….” Does the prayer book ask the impossible of us? How can we be “changed into his likeness?” What is the Book of Common Prayer really talking about here?

Certainly, we cannot be changed into Jesus’ physical likeness. For starters, does anyone know what Jesus looked like? Artists have been trying to capture his “likeness” since probably the day after the first Easter. We have wonderful art to show for it – frescoes, sculpture, icons, paintings from every century and culture – but most artistic renderings are at best symbolic suggestions of who Jesus was. Even if Mathew Brady had been alive during Jesus’ time and had photographed Jesus, most of us could not be changed into his physical likeness: try as we might we will never become short, black-haired, dark-skinned Jewish males. Then can we hope to what Jesus did? Probably none of us will be executed on a cross by Roman authorities. And unless you all are hiding something from me, probably none of you will be receiving the death penalty any time soon. And aren’t all of us absolutely sure that we cannot be changed into Jesus’ divine likeness? The gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke all tell us that three of the disciples got a glimpse of Jesus’ true glorified nature – and they were terrified! “I will never be like Jesus, no one will ever be terrified of me that way,” we would all say.

So how can we be “changed into his likeness?” What would that look like? If Jesus is our model, what can we learn from looking at the way he lived out his human life? To begin with, the first thing that we notice about Jesus, especially if we read closely the gospel of Luke, is that Jesus had a deep and abiding relationship with God. Perhaps Jesus’ deep relationship with God began at his conception. He received again God’s affirmation of his unbreakable bond with God when he was baptized. Thereafter Jesus’ connection with God permeated all of his adult life. Jesus’ close connection with God is especially reflected in the depth of his prayer and in how often he took time away from his ministry for prayer. If you read the gospel of Luke carefully, you will notice all the times Luke mentions that Jesus withdrew for prayer. It’s not a coincidence that the disciples received such an overwhelming experience of Jesus’ divine nature as today’s reading suggests while they and Jesus were at prayer.

That’s what happens in prayer! That’s what happens when we open ourselves up to God and let God work within us! Our transformation into Jesus’ likeness, call it conversion if you will, is the result of a deep and ongoing relationship with God. For some of us, conversion begins with one shattering experience of God’s reality, presence, and demands on us, an experience that profoundly alters our lives. For others of us, conversion may begin with a gentle nudge, a feeling that we need to find our way back to church, to faith, to spiritual growth. And for yet others of us, conversion begins with a “dark night of the soul,” when we may feel that all is lost, and that God has completely abandoned us.

And are we then immediately “changed into his likeness?” Usually not. Transformation is God’s work in us, and it is usually “the slow work of God.” God works in us day by day, week by week, year by year, molding, shaping, and forming us – like a great artist – into God’s desired creation, a human being as fully alive as Jesus was. And God does God’s work in us as we spend time in prayer with God, as we let God know us, heal us, and change us. Moreover, transformation is rarely a solo experience. We may pray as individuals, and God may grace our prayer with God’s presence. But continued growth in the Christian life must be done in community. Our growth as disciples takes place in a shared community of commitment to the Christian Way. Notice that Jesus took three people up the mountain with him. Most important, our transformation is never our own doing, and it seldom happens overnight. But the good news is that when we keep “listening to Jesus,” in prayer, when we all take time to be in solitude with God, God will transform us.

What happened after the transcendent “mountain-top” experience? They came down the mountain! What is more important, Jesus returned to ministry. For Jesus, ministry follows mystery. After prayer time, Jesus always came back to heal, feed, and teach. The gospel account does not say whether the disciples had any clue as to what they had experienced with Jesus on the mountain. But we can infer that they had not yet been changed enough into Jesus’ likeness to replicate the work of his ministry. Even so, for Jesus, the transcendent sense of connection with God deepened his call. He continued to care for those in need, and he set his face for Jerusalem and what would await him there.

And so it is for us also. After we have had a deep experience of God’s reality, of God’s love, and of God’s desire to transform us, there may possibly be something outwardly visible in our appearance. Moses’ face was radiant after his encounter with God, so radiant that people were afraid to come near him. More often the change is in the way we live our lives. “After Zen, the laundry.” Or as Jesuit spiritual teacher Anthony de Mello tells us,

“When the Zen master attained enlightenment
he wrote the following lines to celebrate it:
Oh wondrous marvel:
I chop wood!
I draw water from the well!”1

Though the world – and we ourselves – may look and feel different, perhaps even fresh and new after an encounter with God, we and others may also see God’s transformative power at work within us in the quality of our relationships with loved ones friends, in our concern for the needs of others, or in our zeal for pursuing justice and peace. Indeed, it is the essence of Christian life that we must come down from the mountain strengthened to serve others. Scottish Bible commentator William Barclay reminds us that we need solitude but not solitariness. Just like Jesus, we need solitude to stay connected with God. But “if we, in our search for solitude, shut ourselves off from one another, if we shut our ears to the appeal of brothers and sisters for help, if we shut our hearts to the cries and tears of things, then that is not religion. The solitude is … meant to make us better able to meet and cope with the demands of everyday life.”2

Will we be “changed into his likeness?” As followers of Jesus, we trust that when we live a life a prayer, when we join with others in Christian community, and when we live into our respective ministries to others, God will continue the transformation God began in us. Is such a life easy? If it were, these pews would be filled to overflowing. No, it takes courage, grit, and determination to admit that we need God’s transformative power and to let God into our self-centered lives.

John Smylie tells the story of a teen whose parents had divorced.3 Like many children of divorced parents he had shuffled back and forth between their respective houses, angry at both of them and secretly wishing they would get back together. When his mother remarried, he was even angrier, and especially at his stepfather. Two years after his mother remarried, when he was fifteen, some friends invited him to come to a Happening, a special weekend for teens that helps them go deeper in their relationship with God. When he came home from the weekend, he was tired, but excited, and he bubbled over telling his mother and stepfather about all the wonderful experiences he had had. Then he said to his stepfather, “There’s something I’ve got to tell you, but I’m not ready to tell you right at this moment.” His stepfather replied, “Whenever you are ready I’m here to listen to you.” Three days later, when the stepfather was beginning to wonder when he might hear the rest of the story, the boy declared he was ready to speak. They went where they could be alone. The boy held his head down and struggled to speak. Finally, close to tears, he said, “You know, when you married my mom, that was really hard for me. I want my mom to be happy but it was really hard to have you come into my life and my family. What I realized over the weekend was that God has brought you to my life.” Himself unable to speak, the stepfather received the boy’s gracious words and embraced him.

This is the good news: when we look at Jesus, when we listen to him, God’s grace transforms us. God’s grace enables us to live a cross-shaped life, connected both to God and to our brothers and sisters. By God’s grace we will be truly transformed into Christ’s likeness.

1. The Song of the Bird (New York: Doubleday, 1982), 16.

2. William Barclay, The Gospel of Mark: Daily Study Bible Series (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1956), 220, quoted in David E. Leininger, Tales for the Pulpit (Lima, OH: CSS, 2009), 80.

3. “Transforming Light,” Lectionary Stories for Preaching and Teaching Cycle C (Lima, OH:CSS, 2012),

St. Peter's in Two Parts

This is a sermon in two parts, both about St. Peter’s. In Part I you’ll hear the highlights of my annual report, which is not about me but about us partnering with God in God’s work. You’ll get a copy of the report at the Annual Meeting, so you might snooze through this part and read it later. Wake up for Part II, though, for you’ll hear about how our parish compares with those contentious Christians in Corinth.

By God’s grace we have done a lot this year at St. Peter’s! Regular worship is what nourishes us and knits us together as a Christian community. So, as your priest in charge, I preside at the Eucharist every Sunday, except when I am on vacation, and at least one weekday. In our weekday Eucharists, we use an informal style and the Great Thanksgiving from Enriching Our Worship. Last year we celebrated our patronal festival, the Confession of St Peter, though, for different reasons, not this year. During Holy Week we offered Tenebrae, Maundy Thursday with foot-washing, and a contemplative Good Friday service. We welcomed Bishop Tom Breidenthal in October. On the last Sunday in Advent, we enjoyed a wonderful Christmas pageant that included a dozen children.

As your priest, I also conducted special services, including a memorial for Wanda Parsons and other burials. I’m a volunteer chaplain at Holzer Medical Center, where I make rounds one morning a month and attend periodic continuing education sessions. I visit parishioners at home or in the hospital. I also trained two more Eucharistic ministers to bring communion on Sundays to the housebound. I meet monthly for breakfast with the clergy of our Deanery. Since last August two other Episcopal priests and two Lutheran pastors and I, all serving along the Ohio River, have been meeting to share ministry. In August I started the Wellstreams program for training as a spiritual director. Spiritual companioning is an ancient ministry of the church, and meeting regularly with a spiritual director or companion is an excellent avenue for spiritual growth.

Continuing formation, for children and adults is as important to the health of the parish as worship is. This year we created a separate Sunday school group for older children. Several children also serve as acolytes. A youth group has begun, with activities planned for children ten and older. Children are hosting the upcoming Souper Bowl, and are beginning to renovate the church’s old youth group room. For adult formation, last Lent the weekday Eucharist was followed by discussion of Your Faith Your Life. Some of you joined Erin and Paul Polcyn, who were preparing for confirmation. Erin and Paul were confirmed at a regional confirmation held at Good Shepherd Athens on May 5th. During Easter tide the adult formation class studied an introduction to Christian spirituality.

The parish undertook significant renovation this past year. If you haven’t seen the newly refurbished nursery and Sunday school rooms, go back and look at them. Then peek into the conference room, which was completely cleaned out, repainted, and redecorated. The prayer room was also cleaned, repainted, and given new carpet. And we now have our own icon! A lovely icon of St. Anna, traditionally the mother of Mary, hangs in the prayer room, along with plaques recognizing our members of the Society of St. Simeon and St. Anna. We now have comfortable and welcoming spaces for meetings, classes, prayer, and spiritual direction.

We continued our participation in the Common Ministry project, joining with five other parishes in the diocese in order to intentionally explore our mission here. A team composed of Carolyn Anderson, Christina Cogar, Jon Krastes, Bob Morris, and I, attended five meetings at the Procter Center in 2012. India Cullen also joined the team in the fall. The Common Ministry project continues through May.

Despite our size we are God’s instruments in service to our neighbors. Stay one Sunday for Loaves and Fishes, always the last Sunday of the month. We put out tablecloths, silverware, china, and table decorations. We also put out prayer request cards and pray for the requests in the weekday Eucharist. You may be surprised at how many people sit down to eat with us – nowadays a minimum of 75, sometimes as many as 90. Fifty meals go next door to residents of First Holzer apartments, and over two hundred meals are taken away, most by people who have come in to eat. We continue to distribute diapers at the Lutheran Social Services mobile food pantry, along with clothes sent to us by a parish on Long Island. You generously contribute to the Snack Pack program, the Outreach Center, and Souper Bowl Sunday. And we continue to host a number of different “anonymous” groups in our downstairs parish hall.

We may feel like a traditional parish, but we are also part of the 21st century. We have a parish web site maintained by a parishioner at St. Mary’s Hillsboro. We have a Facebook page, now seen by over one hundred people. I send out a weekly e-mail newsletter. Every Sunday evening I post my sermons on a blog, Word for Us.

O.K., if you’ve been snoozing, it’s time to wake up. We’ve done a lot as a parish. We’re not like those contentious Christians in Corinth, are we? You just heard some more of Paul’s first letter to them. Paul’s letter actually deals with very real issues facing a particular community that was diverse in ethnicity, gender, class, and whether they were slaves or free. Some of them thought they were superior to others because of their spiritual gifts. In the part before today’s reading, Paul reminded them that the Spirit gives gifts to whomever the Spirit chooses, for the purpose of building up the Christian community. No gift was superior to any other. To underscore his point, he compared the Christian community to the human body. The human body contains a variety of limbs and organs, all different but all very much needed. In the same way, the members of a Christian community play a variety of roles, all different, but all vitally needed.

And that’s where you come in. As a parish we accomplished a lot in 2012. But to continue to do God’s work in 2013, we need all of you, working together. As those baptized into Christ, we too all received gifts from the Holy Spirit. And we all have work to do in this community. If you are sitting up and breathing, you have a role to play! None of us can do everything, not even the priest. Yet all of us were gifted by the Holy Spirit to do the work that God has given us.

What is that work? All of us must be generous with our resources – that goes without saying. Some of us were called to lead worship. Only the priest can read the Gospel, preside at the Eucharist, pronounce absolution, and give a blessing. But others can read the lessons, serve the chalice, and, when trained, preach. Some must lead the parish in education, both of children and adults. Some are called to promote fellowship, through organizing potlucks, picnics, youth outings, and other social gatherings. Some are called to proclaim the good news and invite their friends, neighbors, or relatives into the fellowship of Christ’s body. Some are called to offer pastoral care to others: providing meals when needed, visiting the sick and the shut-ins, remembering those in prison, or sending out birthday cards.

Some of called to service within the parish: Altar Guild members, junior warden, and treasurer. Some are called to spur us to mission, to organize and work in the diaper ministry and Loaves and Fishes, and to collect food for the Outreach Center and Snack Pack program. Some draw our attention to wider issues. They encourage us to ask why people are hungry, why people can’t afford diapers, or how we can be better stewards of the earth. Some remind us of the ties we have to other Christian bodies and encourage ecumenical efforts. Some are called to pray for others. And some are called to what I call a ministry of witness, to work for the kingdom simply by sitting – in the pew week after week. They cheer up the priest and they encourage others who see their loyalty to God. David Leininger tells the story of a man who came to worship week after week without fail, even though he was profoundly deaf and could not hear what was happening. Finally, the pastor asked him why he came, when surely he wasn’t getting much out of the service. The man replied, “I just want to show the world whose side I’m on.” That is as important a role as any other!

My friends, you are all part of the body, and you have all been called to this place by the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit needs every one of you to carry out God’s plan in this place. Don’t think the body doesn’t need you! Everyone matters in this place: babies, children, parents, those actively employed, retirees, and even the disabled. Don’t amputate the body. Don’t sit back and let others play their roles without you. The Holy Spirit has called you and endowed you with a unique set of gifts and talents. Accept your gifts!