|
First
Reading
|
Psalm |
Epistle |
Gospel |
| Leviticus 19:1–2, 15–18 |
Psalm 1:1–6 |
1 Thessalonians 2:1–8 |
Matthew 22:24–46 |
The Book of Leviticus and Matthew's Gospel span about seven centuries, yet much of the message is pretty much the same. To love God with one's whole self and to treat one's neighbor as you yourself would like to be treated is pretty straightforward and needs scant translation, whether in the time of tribal Israel, or in Jesus' time under the Roman Empire, or in the 21st century. Of course, we don't herd sheep, or fish for a living on the Sea of Galilee. Church participation is no longer the accepted norm of our busy society. Yet God's passion for humanity has not wavered and our mission to be a community of hope and witness of God's grace has not been revoked.
Periodically I've been asked about the history of this particular church and so I will offer a brief history lesson some of you have already heard. The first Episcopal Church was built here on this corner in 1824 led by a group that had begun meeting two years previously. A few years later the congregation sent to New York for a bell that still rings at our services.
In 1859 the people of St. John's felt so optimistic about their future that they tore down the original church that stood on this site and erected a new imposing structure that is substantially the nave you are sitting in today. Yet soon after this building was completed, and the paint on these walls still fresh, war was tearing this country apart. While in its early days, the conflict was assumed to portend a few minor skirmishes and last only a few months, as the weeks went by and the casualties mounted, it became apparent that a cataclysm was in the making. The parades down the main streets of America sending the boys off were overshadowed by the wooden boxes of bodies returning on the baggage cars of the railroads and the stories of disillusioned veterans who returned. The 1860's also exposed the ugly reality of slavery in America and inaugurated a larger struggle for human dignity and equality that still engages us.
People of St. John's who had been so enthusiastic about the future to build a rather ambitious structure for its time, found little to celebrate. Instead they began to pray week after week for those killed, wounded, or missing and began worrying about their relations on the other side of the lines. Undoubtedly parishioners of the 1860's saw in their age a crisis of faith. Some did not live to see the building paid for and consecrated by the bishop. Yet I am confident that the community of faith of that time remained witnesses and true harbingers of hope.
Abraham Lincoln himself was one of those harbingers. While the outcome of the war was still in doubt, as bloodshed brought no sign of resolution and people on both sides became discouraged and bitter, Abraham Lincoln was invited to offer some introductory remarks for a dedication ceremony of a cemetery on the site of an exceptionally costly engagement. His remarks did not immediately receive unanimous acclaim. It took a while for the words to sink in and permeate the wall of cynicism and despair. Yet the Gettysburg Address both recalled the nation to its original mission, a mission of liberty, freedom and justice, and courageously asserted that God was continuing to move us in expanding and enlarging the nation's myopic vision of freedom.
Today most of us sit in the same pews that members of the parish in 1860 sat. The marks where the original gaslights stood are still visible. There are still hinge marks from the doors numbering the pews reminding us that this parish was originally supported by annual pew rents. Incidentally, St. John's has always been in the forefront of recycling, with some of the discarded walnut pew doors used as front panels dividing the nave from the choir during a 20 th century renovation. Underneath in the sub-structure and above us in the superstructure are ample signs of numerous repairs over decades.
Yes, we do live in times that challenge us. The intensity and frequency of natural disasters unnerve us; continual world conflicts discourage us; AIDS, bird flu, and threats of terrorism frighten us; and economic trends certainly concern us. Yet I wonder if that is not the norm for people of faith. God formed us to witness precisely in the face of doubt and cynicism. The architecture of this building was designed so that people would look up and raise their sights, even higher than West or South Hill. Why do we have such a high spire on this church? Because it is assumed there is inevitably fog and confusion in our world, and the church is a witness to the Holy Spirit, lifting us above it. Perhaps there is nothing so terribly unique or unusual about our place in history or our role in the world at this juncture after all.
And
I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.
