| Sermon
for All Saints-by-the-Sea, Proper 8, June 29, 2008 In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit – Amen. I once worked for an organization that, as part of my job, had me going door to door to raise money. You may cringe at the thought, and so did I when I first took on the job. Most of my colleagues were idealistic like me, but we did not relish the idea of going out onto the street and interrupting nice people at dinner. We did it purely because we believed in the cause, stepping way out of our own personal comfort zones. One of the high up people in our organization spoke to us once about the virtues of door-to-door canvassing. He said it is a rare thing nowadays for people to discuss issues and learn about the world from another person in the flesh rather than from a TV or computer screen. (Ten years later, this is even more the case.) The idea that we would be willing to have a one-on-one conversation with anyone willing to open their door was something to celebrate. He also said that, if nothing else, it was character-building! …Walking the street with nothing but your mind and your clipboard. …Greeting people with openness, without discrimination, offering all of the people the same chance to get involved with a cause that was very meaningful. Looking back, it was almost as if our non-religious cause took a missionary form. Character-building indeed! To have doors slammed in your face, and still continue making yourself available to the next person you meet, time after time, helps you grow as a person. You learn to appreciate every kind gesture, regardless of whether a person supported the cause monetarily or otherwise. I loved coming upon the households of Jehovah’s Witnesses. Yes, we knocked on their doors many times, turning the tables on them! And while they were forbidden by their religion from ever give money at the door, they were often the kindest people to meet. They would usually invite us in for a glass of juice or water. I distinctly remember finding myself walking a neighborhood outside of Denver, Colorado one evening in December. There was no snow on the ground, but the temperature of the air was dropping quickly. Since I was only visiting the area for a few days, I was not acclimated to the cold weather, and my clothing didn’t fit the climate. The longer I was out, the more the air would seep through the layers of my jacket and sweater and reach my skin. I don’t remember if I raised much money that night or not, but I do remember the gracious woman who offered me hot chocolate. *** The joy of canvassing was that it brought us, surprisingly often, into the realm of grace. We were vulnerable on those dark streets, with only our clipboards. It was daunting and lonely. Still, the dozens of rejections on a given night could be forgotten in light of the one generous heart who greeted you not only with a donation to the campaign but, even more importantly, with a smile, or a hot chocolate—the Colorado winter’s equivalent of a cup of cold water. In the gospel today, Jesus says: “Whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.” The disciples of Jesus were asked to go out and share the good news. It was more than socially awkward, but seriously dangerous work (far more character-building than canvassing in suburban Colorado in the freezing cold.) And he says, “Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” I used to think that this passage was about generosity towards children. But the term “one of these little ones” actually refers to Jesus’ own disciples. He spoke of them affectionately as his “children.” To give a cup of water to a disciples would have been a relatively easy act for the person giving it, but imagine how meaningful it would be for the one receiving it. Jesus paints a picture not only of hospitality, but of grace. *** Grace means a gift, freely given without anything being owed. It is the easiest thing in the world, except that it seems to go against our nature. The world doesn’t function that way. We’re used to the idea that you get what you pay for. Grace is easy to understand, but hard to accept. *** There is a big difference between taking and receiving. A taker is different from a receiver because a taker feels entitled. A receiver, on the other hand, knows that a gift is a gift! A receiver of grace becomes a sharer of grace with others. It cannot be otherwise! *** Philip Yancey wrote a book called “What’s So Amazing about Grace.” He notes that the world can give us much of what we need and desire, but only the church—when it is really being what God calls the church to be—can give grace. Sadly, we don’t often think of the church in that way. Yancey tells of a former prostitute who feels horrible about herself. Her counselor asks her, why don’t you try going to a church, and she responds as if he is crazy, saying that of course any church would only make her feel worse. Likewise, what is happening in the global Anglican Communion right now is not the Church being what God has called us to be. Grace is in very short supply. The Church is giving in to its weakness for reflecting more of the world than the Kingdom of God. On the other hand, and on a much smaller scale, an example of the opposite takes place every Wednesday evening here at All Saints. We have a new service in which we gather up here in the chancel, sitting in a circle, sharing scripture, music and prayers, and then, following the most ancient of Christian practices, we break bread together and enjoy conversation around tables in the Parish Hall. Everyone gets fed. Those of us who now worship at this service every Wednesday are finding it to be a very important part of our week. It is a place where this church, at least, is learning one more way to simply and beautifully practice grace, and it is becoming wonderfully contagious. *** And of course here, this morning, we are about to break bread with one another and with Jesus. When Jesus, a man of righteousness, met with the ways of the world, which were not righteous, the result was his suffering and death. And his response was not to hate, but to love anyway. By receiving the bread and the wine, we receive Jesus into ourselves. It gives us the power to live with grace, as he did. It is more than a cup of cold water for our journey. We become Christ’s own body in the world. This is why we give thanks to God each Sunday after communion, saying the beautiful words of our prayer book: “You have graciously accepted us as living members of your son, our savior, Jesus Christ.” When we participate in this flow of grace on earth, we taste the Kingdom of God. Amen.
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