A man “organized a dinner at his church to raise money for famine relief
in Sudan. About 80 people signed up to come. He had tables set for
various-sized groups – as small as six, as large as 15. People came in and took
seats at random. Then the servers came out. The smallest tables were served
first. They received an abundance of rich, sauce-laden food, hot, tender, tasty.
The servers were polite, attentive, quick to bring more food at the slightest
indication that it was running low. They were quick to do the guests’ bidding,
and usually anticipated their wishes.
“Next, some of the larger tables were served. Theirs was a sparse,
messy, bland meal. The few dishes were brought out in no particular order. The
servers were curt and hurried. There were no seconds.
“Two of the largest tables were served second to last – after the few
guests at the first tables had already had all they could eat and their dinner
plates, piled with uneaten food, were whisked away and replaced with rich
desserts and coffee. At the large tables, the servers plunked down, with rude
haste, one bowl of rice in the middle of each table. No one got a plate or
bowl. There were no utensils for serving or eating. The waiters never came
back.
“The very largest table was served last of all. They got a bucket of
water. There was barely enough to go around. The water was brown and lukewarm.
If you wanted some, you had to drink it from a wooden ladle, passed along with
the bucket. Most people didn’t bother.
“At first the people at the largest tables, the last ones served,
complained. Several people got up and spoke to the servers. The servers ignored
them. Some went to … the organizer. He ignored them. He and the servers paid
attention only to the guests who sat at the smallest tables and who had
received the most. The servers would come around often to those tables, ask if
everything was pleasing and agreeable, and did they need anything else? There
was much laughter, banter, politeness.
“After a while, it became obvious to everyone what was happening. The
church was being given a taste of how the world works – its lopsidedness, its
patch rhythm of muchness and emptiness, of affluence and desolation. Some got
to experience, and all got to witness, the hunger of the hungry.
“The offering for famine relief was good that night.”[1]
Holy Nativity’s neighborhood stretches from Kahala to Hawaii Kai. Many
in this affluent area are lost sheep, not so much persons desperate for food or
shelter but starved for spiritual food. Our immediate neighbors may appear hale
and happy. Yet appearances can be deceptive. Get to know them; really listen to
them. Then you will learn of their health concerns, addictions, financial worries,
broken relationships, fears for their children, the numerous days they awaken
to wonder why they live, and so forth. They need God’s loving, life-giving
presence.
One in five Episcopal congregations is growing.[2]
Holy Nativity can easily join the ranks of those growing congregations. This
beautiful, architectural award-winning campus offers an important potential connection
with God. Each of you, and your relationships with one another, are similarly
another potential point of connectivity with God. Yet another potential point
of connectivity with God is the gift of God's life-giving presence in our
celebration of the Eucharist. According to theologian Ilia Delio, “A
eucharistic community should be a new energy field, a new pattern of
relatedness; the joy of being a eucharistic people is the renewal of energy for
the sake of transforming relationships in the cosmos.”[3]
To grow, we individually and collectively must:
· Invite: ask people in a non-judgmental way to visit Holy Nativity
· Welcome: wear your nametag, speak to people you don’t know, make our
worship as visitor friendly as possible, and so forth
· Connect: involve newcomers in our various ministries and missions, even offering
to let the newcomer take one’s place
Fr Chris is spearheading this initiative for us. Congregations do not
grow serendipitously or by accident. Congregations grow because leaders intentionally
promote growth-oriented policies and programs.
Few first century shepherds owned their flock. The flock may have
belonged to the village or to a wealthy person, perhaps from Jerusalem or
another affluent community. If, at day’s end, a sheep was missing, one of the
shepherds would search for the lost animal while the other shepherds took the
flock home. If the sheep could not be found, then the shepherd or shepherds
responsible for the flock bore the cost, perhaps eight days’ wages, perhaps
more. In a subsistence economy that excluded women from the paid workforce, a
shepherd who lost a sheep, and his family, depended on the charity of neighbors
or starved.[4] No
wonder Jesus’ anecdote of a shepherd searching for, and then finding, a lost
sheep resonated with his hearers.[5]
May you and I, walking in Jesus’ footsteps, eat with today’s sinners and
tax collectors; may we genuinely rejoice when persons lost in the dark of
disease, despair, despondency, or debt join us in feasting at God's table.
Amen.
Sermon preached
the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, September 15, 2019
Church of the Holy Nativity, Honolulu, HI
Church of the Holy Nativity, Honolulu, HI
[1] Mark
Buchanan, “Go fast and live,” The Christian Century, 28 February 2001,
pp. 19-20.
[3] Ilia
Delio, The Emergent Christ (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis, 2011), Kindle
Highlight Loc. 1646-52.
[4] William
Barclay, “Luke,” Daily Study Bible (Philadelphia: Westminster, n.d.),
pp. 122-123.
[5] Luke 15:1-10.
No comments:
Post a Comment