The Episcopal Church of the Mediator

celebration sermon - 50th anniversary

DISCERNING THE TIMES

A Sermon by the Rt. Rev. A. Theodore Eastman
XII Bishop of Maryland (Retired)
Church of the Mediator, Allentown , Pennsylvania
The Seventh Sunday of Easter
May 4, 2008

 Texts: Acts 1:6-14; I Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-1; John 17:1-11

1958 was quite a year!

·       In March, a British team completed the first crossing of the Antarctic using a Snow-cat and dog-sled teams.  Who would have suspected then that a mere fifty years later the Antarctic ice sheet would be in jeopardy of disappearing entirely?

·       On July 26, Queen Elizabeth gave birth to her first child, Charles, Prince of Wales, heir to the throne of Great Britain .    Who would have guessed then that he would still be heir to the throne fifty years later – with no end in sight?

·       In September, Jack St. Clair Kirby invented the integrated circuit.    Hardly anyone could imagine then the extent of the fabulous electronic magic that his invention would conjure up during the succeeding fifty years.

·       In late October, Cardinal Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli was elected Pope John XXIII, who opened windows of change in the Roman Catholic Church with huge ecumenical ramifications.    Few could imagine at that time how far those windows would open – and then begin to close again – during the ensuing fifty years.

·       In 1958, the Church of the Mediator occupied its new church building, which reflects in its architecture many of the innovations of the liturgical movement of the twentieth century.   Who could have imagined then that the same church would benefit from another overdue innovation, so that in half a century it would be served by a rector who is a woman?

     These few citations represent no more than the tip of the proverbial 1958 iceberg, a metaphor, by the way, that may eventually disappear, as all real icebergs seem destined to do.   The Internet encyclopedia Wikipedia provided me with more than five single-spaced pages of other significant occurrences in 1958.  Viewed today, some of those events demonstrate dramatically how far we have come since then, while others show that what seemed to be breakthroughs then have turned out to be breakdowns in the fifty years since.    Reflecting on 1958 as a whole, we are reminded how futile it is to predict what will happen in the future.

 * * *  

The first two readings this morning invite us to reflect theologically on the human desire to predict the future.    They invite us to exchange anxious prognostication for open-minded, open-spirited, open-ended expectation.    They invite us to practice the art of patient, trusting discernment.  

          Before Jesus departed from his disciples for the last time, they asked him if the momentous events of the past few days were signs of a change that they ardently hoped would happen.    Thinking politically rather than spiritually, they wondered if Jesus, now recognized as the Messiah, would proceed to break the bonds of Roman domination.    They wondered if at last ultimate political authority would be restored to the Kingdom of Israel .   

 “They still don’t get it!” Jesus must have thought.    They would indeed come into power, he told them, power with unlimited possibilities.    But the power Jesus promised would be far different from what they imagined.     It would be spiritual power, not political power, and it would come to them in due time through the Holy Spirit.    With that enigmatic and confusing promise in mind, the little band of tentative believers went down from the Mount of Olives and back to their upper room in Jerusalem .    And there they waited expectantly in prayer.   Acts doesn’t reveal what it was they were praying for, which is just as well because it’s likely that they were praying for the wrong things, as we ourselves are apt to do.  

          So there we have one clear word from early Christians to all of us here at this anniversary moment, at this moment when our eyes are drawn inevitably forward even as we glance backward:  Be expectant, Acts tells us, without being predictive.   

* * *  

There is another word from our forbears in faith, this one more sobering.    It confronts us in the second reading today.  

The First Epistle of Peter was probably not written by the apostle himself but by someone else in his community, who was strongly influenced by his teaching and more conversant in Greek than the rough-hewn fisherman would have been.   The letter is a word of encouragement to the church in the last third of the first century.  The promised Holy Spirit had been poured out upon the church at Pentecost decades earlier.    Christians were impelled by that Spirit to share the good news of the Kingdom in Jerusalem , throughout neighboring Judea and Samaria and into other parts of the world.    The results of this activity of the Spirit were not entirely positive.    As individual Christians tried to live righteous lives in a hostile society, they were shunned at best or harshly persecuted at worst, even to the point of death. The aim of the letter was to give solace, comfort, courage and hope to faithful Christians, reminding them that suffering – or sacrifice – comes with the territory.  Personal suffering for the sake of the gospel is linked to Christ’s own suffering, indeed is an extension of it.   That kind of sacrifice is a test of a Christian’s faith.   It drives believers into deeper dependence upon God’s power, not their own.   It makes a positive and compelling witness to those who are not Christians.  

          Suffering for righteousness sake is a hypothetical possibility for every Christian in any age, and it is a bitter reality for more than a few Christians in various parts of the world right now.   We are painfully aware, for example, of the kidnapping or assassination of Syrian Orthodox and Chaldean Christian leaders in Iraq these days.   For most of us in this country, however, the “devouring lion” mentioned in this morning’s epistle is more like a gnawing rodent of disparagement in resurgent, aggressive atheism, or the snarling, snapping dog of internal church conflicts, or the self-satisfied fat cat of enervating apathy.     All of these lesser beasts, of course, bring with them their own set of perplexities and their own forms of pain.  

* * *  

          So, how do we put together these two messages from the early church in a way that helps us on this anniversary occasion?  

          As we look ahead to the mission of the faith community that will be worshipping in this space for the next fifty years, it would be wise to be clear about four things.    These observations are not specific to the Church of the Mediator alone, of course, but apply to the entire church at this point in her history.  

First, like a Saharan sirocco, the wind of the Holy Spirit will not allow the contours of the land to remain forever the same.  Dunes do drift.    Earth is eroded.    It is impossible to be faithfully responsive to God’s promptings and at the same time attempt to keep things the way they have always been.    Although the Acts reading shows the disciples waiting passively in that upper room in Jerusalem , the First Peter passage reminds us what risky but transformational energy is unleashed when church is swept into action by the Spirit.  

Second, while it is foolish to attempt to predict the future, it is vitally important to stay tuned to trends in the culture of which we are a part.   “Discipline yourselves, keep alert,” First Peter counsels.   There is a fine line to tread here.    We need to be aware of what God is doing around us, as well as in and through us, while at the same time avoiding fads that may be alluring but can distract us from the church’s core mission.  The hard part is discerning the one from the other, but to do so is crucial.  

Third, when disputation, antipathy, or outright hostility strike, we must avoid the temptation of withdrawing into quietism.    By “quietism,” I mean a retreat into a kind of inward spirituality that avoids or rejects the importance of human activity in God’s work of salvation.    God calls the church to engagement not disengagement.   In her Pentecost letter to the Episcopal Church, just released, Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori writes, “In baptism we discover that we are meant to be for others, in the same way that God is for us.  This means that God’s mission must be the primary focus, not anything that focuses on our own selves to the exclusion of neighbor.  For when we miss the neighbor, we miss God.”  

Fourth, when conflict besets the church internally, as is occurring dramatically today, we must continue to strive for reconciliation and ultimate unity.    Today’s gospel reading reminded us how ardently Jesus yearned that his disciples would be one, as he and the Father are one.  If we bring our desire into conformity with his deepest desire, then the Spirit of reconciliation can enter the scene and will have ample room to maneuver and ultimately to succeed.  

* * *  

          First century Christians have much to teach us twenty-first century Christians. On this special day, I hope you have found resonances in Luke’s dramatic narrative in Acts, in the encouraging words of First Peter and in the illuminating witness of John the Evangelist.    As we recall our honored past today and face into an uncertain future, the truest and most hopeful words of all, I believe, are those that end today’s epistle:  

“After you have suffered [endured] for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen and establish you.  To him be the power forever and ever.  Amen”