The Episcopal Diocese of Bethlehem

Sermons by Bishop Paul V. Marshall


Discipleship costs... but resurrection follows....
We Are Adult Friends Of Jesus Christ
by Bishop Paul V. Marshall

[This is an edited version of the sermon Bishop Paul preached (Feb.6, 1999) at the Celebration of New Ministry of Trinity Church, Bethlehem, with their new rector, Father Nick Knisely. --Bill]

(John 15:8-20)

My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples... I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends... You did not choose me but I chose you... If the world hates you, - be aware that it hated me before it hated you... If they persecuted me, they will persecute you...

We gather in our churches -- around our altars -- as Jesus' friends, not passive or dependent servants, but as people who know what God is up to in our lives and in the world, as friends who are already with the program, following Jesus in a world that needs our ministry; in doing so, we know we are going to find more and more joy. We understand that our friend and savior followed a road that cost his life. We recognize that discipleship costs, but that resurrection follows.

A rector comes to serve, to serve with brothers and sisters whose primary identity is that they are adult friends of Jesus. A rector is not in place to keep us happy or to spin a web of dependent or co-dependent relationships, but to keep us focused on, nourished by, and growing into friendship with Jesus Christ.

We recognize, however, that there are times when what we really want from a priest is quite a bit less than that. In the wonderful play and movie Harvey, a character wishes for one thing, to be alone with a beautiful woman for a few weeks, and all she is expected to do is hold his hand and say, "there, there."

All of us come to church, to marriage, to friendships, with some leftover infantile desires or emotional patterns; so, we sometimes look for emotional marshmallows instead of spiritual protein. We can be seductive, manipulative, or threatening around those desires or patterns to get them met, and we can be sulky, hostile, or punitive when they aren't met. And in church we do it all in the name of religion.

Jesus offers in the gospels what to modern ears sounds like a curious insensitivity training. When the disciples are squabbling about who will be greatest, he doesn't get them in touch with a single thing - instead he says, ok, you have all that drive to be the greatest, so go for it: dare to lead and challenge the whole world ...but do it by being its servant. And they did.

When they wanted to settle for religiosity instead of discipleship and build those booths on the mountain where Jesus was transfigured, Jesus wouldn't let them turn his ministry into an inspiring, comforting, and awe-inspiring theme-park. He led them down the mountain to Jerusalem, to grisly death and gloriously empty tomb, of which they were to be witnesses. And they were.

He also lays out that unsettling challenge that we think of ourselves not as dependents but as his friends, partners in his mission, sharing not a fear of flying, but sharing joy in knowing God and giving our selves as Christ did. His recipe for life is true. We all know that when we're really down in the dumps, visiting a nursing home, or helping in the soup kitchen has its own power to bring joy in serving others as an amazing experience of grace.

As friends of Jesus, we ask our leaders to keep us fixed on that relationship, to nurture it, to help us seek direction in the scriptures. That is heavy duty pastoring among adult friends.

The time we spend in church, the time our priests spend at the altar and in the pulpit, that time is both the most and least important thing they and we do in the week.

Church is the least important thing we do because the core of our response to the unsearchable riches of God is the constant giving of our selves in genuine love and the use of the gifts we have for the sake of others. This worship in the world has an interesting order of service: Never flag in zeal, be aglow with the Spirit, serve the Lord, rejoice in your hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer, contribute to the needs of the saints, practice hospitality. (Romans 12:11-13)

The whole earth is our altar, and should be taken care of as fastidiously as we care for altars in church. How we live at home and abroad is our worship, our response to God. It matters what happens in Swaziland, it matters what happens in Allentown, Harlem, and Belfast. How we deal with the people and their needs there is how St. Paul says we "worship" - tell the worth - of God. How we learn to rejoice in life, to be good lovers, good friends, good parents, productive citizens, all of that is our sanctified response to the creator and redeemer.

But that is also why what goes on at our insubstantial church altars made of wood and stone is vitally important, why our priests' stewardship of the mysteries matters so much. Their service at the altar cannot be offhand, but must be strong, loving ... and wise.

The discipline and gift that keeps priesthood a joy is to meet on Sunday those Christians who have in their own way battled through the week, face them with bread and wine, and say, The gifts of God for the people of God. The Eucharist is where our self-giving and Christ's great act of sacrifice meet.

The priest has the duty to lead us into the presence of the transcendent God, where in praise and song, in music and movement, in sermon and story, we rejoice to know that all this in not about ourselves or our good intentions, not merely some aesthetically enhanced social work, but about living in relationship with the eternal God who is as mysterious as quantum foam and as ordinary as the act of dressing a child's scraped knee. Awe, majesty, incarnation, servanthood are aspects of one tremendous mystery. Our priests are called to our parishes to help us keep the pieces together, because one without the other will leave us only half-formed, half-alive, and rather boring.

May they, indeed, stand with us at both altars, feed and challenge us for the sake of Christ and for a share in his joy. 

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