(Proper 16C2) Psalm 103: 1-8; Luke 13: 10-17
Good morning, and grace and peace.
It was like opening the first page of a new chapter last Sunday, as we
returned home here to St. Andrew’s after our summer down the street at
PTS. Jen Palmer made a digital slide show with photos of our first phase of construction, with Bill Ghrist's recording of the choir and congregation singing the last hymn last Sunday, and it was really stunning. Very exciting, so much fun, with thoughts so
much about the future. Not just about
the immediate future, as we complete the continuing “Opening Doors” projects and campaign over the
next few months, with all the work in the parish house still steaming ahead--but
also about the life and ministry and mission of this congregation in years and
even decades and generations to come.
I
thought it was especially fun to have Shana Hutchings, our summer seminary intern, preach
that first Sunday, as another sign of “Opening Doors,” and moving forward. It wasn’t intentional, since we didn’t know
at the beginning of the summer when the preaching schedule was being put
together just when the return from PTS would be. But a nice coincidence, if there are such
things. We care for the garden, but God
gives the growth—sometimes in ways that we see immediately, and sometimes in a
way that reveals itself to us only slowly and over time.
This privilege, to come into this holy place—but then I know even more
importantly to go out through these open doors as we are dismissed, “Go in
peace to love and serve the Lord.” To trust
God, love and serve the Lord Jesus faithfully, wherever we are, at home, at
work, at school, in the neighborhood, and then see what happens. What God’s grace continues to accomplish
every day in our lives. A costly road of
discipleship in many ways, as we all will discover, but also so deeply
rewarding.
Psalm 103 appointed this morning is special to me and Susy in something
of a sentimental way because it was the psalm we selected to have read at our
wedding. (Married folks: do you recall the readings from scripture read at your
wedding? Nice to go back and to revisit
those from time to time. One of themes
that I talk about with couples in preparing for Christian marriage is what
marriage is about as a vocation. Which
is to say, how God is going to use us specifically in our marriage as his
witnesses and representatives. And in
some ways the planning of the wedding service itself and in that the selection
of the readings from scripture represents the first sermon—if you want to think
about it this way—the first sermon preached by this couple in their marriage. First opportunity to give a Christian
testimony, to share the Good News, as husband and wife. Something of an indication and foretaste of
what may follow in word and deed in years to come. And so, to think about that selection. What you really want to say.)
Psalm 103 as Mary Pat has sung it this morning--back on the evening of
May 23, 1980 read by my, our brother-in-law and dear friend Dick Noble, Susy’s sister
Marion’s husband, and we have a fun photo of him at the lectern. Our niece Kristin was about 3 at the time I
think, and of course her dad couldn’t leave her in the pew by herself while he was
going to read, since Marion was up front as Matron of Honor, so Dick held her
up at his side, sort of on his hip, while he was reading. A nice family snapshot in the photo
album. A great memory.
And I can still hear him in that moment, these words: “Bless the Lord,
O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy Name.” To take that word from scripture and to hear
that, I know we did, as a benediction in that moment on our marriage, and as
expressing how we hoped God would use us in the new life that was beginning for
us. That in ways we could only just
begin to imagine he might use our marriage and family to bless others. Just very special.
Trust God, be grounded in the gifts of his Word and sacraments, love
and serve the Lord Jesus faithfully, and then see what happens. Notice his blessings. And give thanks.
The message swoops out in wider circles in the gospel reading set for
us today. Luke the Physician often seems especially
drawn to telling us about how Jesus revealed himself and taught his disciples
and shared his compassion through the ministry of healing. And so here in the 13th
chapter. Jesus. The Sabbath Day. The synagogue. And we can picture her: the woman bent over
and subject to a spirit of disease that has crippled for 18 years. He sees her. Jesus sees her. And that’s something!
Jesus would have been teaching among the men, and she at a customary distance, in the
gallery or back or side-area where the women would gather to pray and
listen. But he sees her, even at that
distance. And he calls her over. Interrupts his sermon. Breaks the rule of decorum by bringing her
over and down front, into the synagogue proper.
He doesn’t ask her any questions.
He simply declares, announces, present-tense, that she is set free,
healed. And then he touches her. And don’t think a few eyebrows in the crowd
weren’t arched even higher at that! And
she immediately straightens up. Immediately. Standing up.
Immediately. Praising God.
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy
Name. Perhaps she would have remembered
the Psalm in that moment. All that is
within me, bless his holy Name.
The officials of the synagogue are in distress. I don’t care if our regular rabbi is on
summer vacation, this is the last time we invite this guy as guest
preacher. Nothing but trouble.
But it’s hard to make much headway with complaining. I
mean, how can you complain? This woman
is probably directly related to half the people in the little village, and
everybody has watched with her and prayed with her and shed tears with her in
her suffering all these many years. Hard
to get too far with grumbling when the whole congregation is cheering and
singing for joy. Whooping it up! As Luke says, “the entire crowd was rejoicing
at all the wonderful things he was doing.”
What Jesus says in John 10:10 maybe echoing around this moment here for
us. “The thief cometh not, but for
to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and
have it in abundance.” Full and
overflowing. What is in the heart of
this one woman as she stands up. What he
would have us know from him, and to share with one another. Blessing.
Thanksgiving, in his presence.
As someone who is for heaven’s sake an Episcopalian, an introverted
Northern European male descended from a very long line of introverted Northern
European males, I guess it’s sometimes a little bit of a challenge for me. You know the story of the American woman who
for the first time visited an English Cathedral to attend a service of Choral
Evensong. At the end of the Choir’s
wonderful Magnificat and as the last notes of the Gloria Patri hung in the air,
she is swept up in wonder and leaps forward shouting “hallelujah, amen, praise
the Lord!” Story goes that a sidesman,
an usher, immediately comes over and tugs at her sleeve to move her back to her
seat, and she shouts out, “I can’t sit down, I’ve got the Spirit!” And the sidesman says, “Madam, you didn’t get
it here.”
Jump up out of your pews when you see all the wonderful things he is
doing. Or at least in our hearts. And maybe a smile or two. If we can’t hold it in. Introverted Episcopalians, bless us all
anyway: Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy
name.
What is he doing in and around us?
What do we see and hear and experience?
Just to have in front of us this particular summer morning. In our renewed church. That we would experience also a renewal in
our life and ministry as well as in the fabric of this great old building. A renewal
of the whole church. Pray for that.
Healing.
Hope. Here at St. Andrew’s and out in wider and
wider circles. As we turn toward fall
and as so much in our lives begins to restart after the pause of the
summer.
A reminder of the word about what we might call "Christian lifestyle" from St.
Paul in First Thessalonians: Pray
always, and in everything give thanks. People
are always saying that the Bible is full of rules, and that’s a good one to
notice. Be thankful unto him and call
upon his name. For the Lord is gracious,
and his mercy is everlasting.
One of the chief goals of a preacher is pretty simple. To lift up a word from scripture with some
clarity and then to present it in such a way that we can all apply in our own
lives. How to apply what we have read
and heard this morning? Good news for a summer Sunday afternoon.
In the late 1840’s an anonymous
poet identified only as “Pauline T.” wrote the lyrics that the American Baptist
composer Robert Wadsworth used in a hymn he called “Always rejoicing.” Found in a lot of Protestant hymnals in the
19th and 20th century and picked up and adapted by artists
like Pete Seeger and Enya. But for us
this summer, this morning, as we come to the Holy Table.
My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth's lamentation,
I hear the sweet, tho' far-off hymn
That hails a new creation;
Thro' all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul—
How can I keep from singing?
*
What tho' my joys and comforts die?
The Lord my Saviour liveth;
What tho' the darkness gather round?
Songs in the night he giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that refuge clinging;
Since Christ is Lord of heaven and
earth,
How can I keep from singing?
*
I lift my eyes; the cloud grows thin;
I see the blue above it;
And day by day this pathway smooths,
Since first I learned to love it;
The peace of Christ makes fresh my
heart,
A fountain ever springing;
All things are mine since I am his—
How can I keep from singing?
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