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Proper 29 The Reign of Christ and Ingathering Sunday – Year A

Preached on November 20, 2011

At St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Brookline, MA

The Reverend Jeffrey W. Mello

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24; Ephesians 1:15-23; Matthew 25:31-46

“You fed me when I was hungry, you welcomed me when I was a stranger, you housed me when I had no home, you clothed me when I was naked, visited me in prison, comforted me when I was sick. And when I was thirsty, you gave me something to drink.”

If you are wondering what it is God is asking you to do with your life, there it is, plain and simple.

It is hard work that we are called to. It is risky work we are given by Jesus. To do all Jesus gives us to do means living our lives without fear. Living without fear frees us to share what we have, because we are sure there is enough for everyone. Living without fear allows us to share what God has given us; our time, our talent and our treasure, and to share it all freely. To live our lives without fear also means making ourselves vulnerable; opening ourselves up to incredible risk and possible failure. And that’s okay. That’s why we do it together.

That’s why we do church.

We come together in this place week after week. My prayer is that we don’t do it simply out of habit. My prayer is that we do it because it helps us, little by little to live into Jesus’ simple and difficult call to feed, to clothe, to shelter, to welcome and comfort. Coming here helps us to love each other as Jesus calls us to.

We do this work in community because it is hard to love. It is harder than you might think. It is hard to open your heart wide to care for those who are in need. We do this work in community because the work we are given is overwhelming, and it is exhausting. We do this work in community because it is difficult work. If it were easy, everyone would be doing it and, well, everybody clearly isn’t.

Sometimes I wonder if it makes sense to keep doing this thing we call church. Sometimes I wonder if we wouldn’t be better off just closing all the churches and synagogues and mosques and giving our money directly to the poor, directly to the homeless, directly to those in prison.

It would be radical. It might be amazing. But I’m sure it would also be temporary. Once the initial excitement passed, life would slowly return to business as usual and the systemic change that is needed in the world would never happen, because we would have no way of keeping it going.

We would have no way to teach our children that how they live their lives matters. We would have no way to hold one another’s feet to the fire and demand that our lives of faith be lived out in the world. We would have no way of practicing in some small way week after week, what we hope the world might be like in some big way, and forever.

We do this thing called church not just so we can do the work of love, but so we can be transformed over and over again into people whose desire it is to do the work of love.

We are not here to check something off a list, but to become people who constantly long for acts of mercy and justice and love. We come here that we might be transformed into a people who will not stop working for God’s dream for the world until it is realized. And that takes practice. Lots and lots of practice.

Last Sunday, I headed back to the rectory after a long morning, and my heart was full. Last Sunday was one of those mornings I am sure I got a glimpse of the church at its best. At the eight o’clock service we wrestled in discussion about how it is we use what it is God gives us and we challenged one another to measure our actions not by the worlds standards, but by God’s.

At 9:00, a large number of us gathered in the Great Hall to put together care packages for members of the community who are in college or serving in the military. All told, some 34 care packages were packed and shipped across the country and around the world.

At the 10:00 service we heard amazing testimonies about the power of community to challenge us into action and to hold us in love.

After the service, the Great Hall brimmed with fellowship and I witnessed newcomers claim their name tags, an outward and visible sign of their welcome into this community.

In the Lichtenberger Room, Ministry Outside the Parish met to disburse funds to organizations working for peace in the middle east; to alleviate hunger in Africa; to lift up the gifts of inner city youth right here in Boston.

And in my office, a group met to finalize plans to install photo-voltaic panels on the roof of the parish house which will provide over 30% of our electrical needs and renew our commitment to be faithful stewards of God’s creation.

In the choir room, a group of teens rang hand bells.

I list these activities not so we can pat ourselves on the back and call it a day, but to remind us, to lift up the possibility that this challenging work to which Jesus calls us is possible. It is work we can actually do, if we do it together.

In a few minutes, we will collect the pledge cards many of us have filled out in order to support the work of St. Paul’s in the next year.

While it is tempting to think that our pledge is about keeping a boiler lit, a light on, or a rector paid, the amount of time and talent and treasure that we take the risk of sharing with this community is time, talent and treasure spent feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, visiting the lonely, giving drink to the thirsty. Whether we are doing that work ourselves, forming our children to take on that work, or feeding one another to continue that work, that is the work we are committed to doing. That is our passion. That is our mission statement. That is why we exist.

That is why we have a choir. It is why we have a coffee hour. That is why we have Sunday School and host a Food Pantry. It’s why we give 10% of our budget each year to Ministries outside of this parish and why we give our space to 12 step groups. But it’s also why we have a Xerox machine and put oil in the furnace. It’s also why we pay staff and replace burnt out light bulbs.

All of what we do is a part of what it takes to transform our hearts, over and over again. Transformation is our work. Transformation so that we might feed, and clothe, welcome and comfort. So that we might live without fear. So that we might give everything we have and all of who we are toward the building up of the Kingdom of God.

If we are doing our job, all of what we do, every line of the budget and every program we offer helps us, in one way or the other to do the work God has given us to do.

We can do the work God gives us to do. We can, and we must.

AMEN.

© 2011 The Reverend Jeffrey W. Mello